The Princess and the Rabbit
by Random Nutcase
Summary: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is flung to a strange town were he has found an unusual mystery: a little yellow duck that dances ballet everyday at noon. Can he uncover the secrets of this little village or will he only make things worse?
1. Out from Wasteland

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 1

Wasteland. The land of the forgotten, of the rejected, of the unseen.

This magic land, built on a foundation of paper, and constructed out of paint, is where cartoon characters go when they are no longer remembered, when their cartoons and movies are no longer enjoyed by the masses, or even when those movies where never made to begin with.

Be it a superstar, a sidekick, or an extra that appeared in the background of Scene 3 for about ten seconds, it doesn't matter. If you're forgotten, then you wind up in Wasteland.

And this land is ruled by its first resident; the first to be forgotten. A former superstar that now dedicates his life to keeping his kingdom safe. And that resident is: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit.

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Today was not his lucky day.

Not his lucky day at all.

Oswald got up and dusted himself off, surveying the smoking crater that, until just a few seconds ago, was once a perfectly level street of concrete. He continued to brush off his inky black fur, hoping it wouldn't stain. Once done, he turned around, his long, roundish ears twitching atop his roundish head which itself rested upon a roundish body, his noodle-like arms and legs shifting into a battle pose.

He stared down the strange rocket-powered contraption before him, which looked a lot like a snow globe that looked noting like a snow globe.

But it was the person in this not-snow globe that he kept a particular eye on, an old man in a white surgeon's smock, stained in several places in who-knows-what, with several surgical tools sticking out of his back pocket. He was bald but his wild, black mustache and beard more then made up for it. But it was the crazed look in his eye that gave Oswald the willies. That crazed, piercing look.

"Ah, did the itty-bitty wabbit fall down and go boom!" The man said in a mocking voice.

Oswald smirked. "Nah, Doc, just resting for a moment. Nothing to fret about."

The man's smile suddenly changed to a frown. "How many times must I tell you, don't call me 'doc'. You are to address me as the Mad Doctor!"

"Yeah, whatever, Doc." Oswald quipped and he broke into a run toward the floating dome.

The Mad Doctor pulled a lever from one of the many knobs and do-dads that surrounded him, and out of the not-snow globe extended a robotic arm, at the end of witch was a pressurized thinner cannon.

Oswald grimaced when he saw this. Thinner, the bane of all toons.

Skidding to a stop, Oswald jumped to the side, narrowly being missed by a blast of thinner.

Taking cover behind a mailbox, Oswald scanned the area. Of course, the Mad Doctor had to choose Mean Street, the central hub of Wasteland for an attack, and during the midday lunch rush no less. There was already a crowd forming much to the cartoon rabbit's cringe. He'd better keep the Doctor's attention on him if he wanted to keep casualties down and even that was not guaranteed.

He would need a little extra help, he decided. Oswald then bent down, grabbed his left foot, and popped it off as if it were some doll's limb. Then, balancing on the other leg, brought the detached foot to his head and rubbed the appendage on his forehead roughly. Then, swiftly, returned it to his leg, snapping it back on with little problem. He then flexed the foot making sure it worked right.

"For luck." He whispered to no one and he returned his attention to his adversary.

"You know what, Doc?" the rabbit called, "You're not so big without the Blot to back you up."

"Bah!" the Doctor spat, "I don't need that glob of paint! As long as I have my Beetleworx army, I am unstoppable! And I told you, don't call me Do…"

The Doctor trailed off when Oswald rushed from behind the mail box and took a huge leap at the not-show globe. Caught off guard, the Doctor shot wildly at Oswald missing every shot by a wide margin. The lucky rabbit's leap propelled him above the machine, landing behind it. Quickly, he ran up to the back of the non-snow globe's base, ripping open an access panel, and tearing out any wires he could find.

It did not take too long for the mad doctor to figure out what happened. With the twirl of a knob and the flick of a switch, the robot arm twisted around so that the thinner gun pointed at the back panel… and Oswald. Thinking fast, Oswald jumped out of the way just as the gun fired. The thinner hit the wires and, sparks flying, the not-snow globe began to wobble uncontrollably as the Mad Doctor franticly began to flip switches in a panic.

Yep, Oswald felt pretty good with himself as he saw the Doctor's contraption start to spin out of control. Yes, there it went, spinning wildly. Yes, spinning… right… toward… him.

Oswald's attempt to doge out of the way came too late and he was caught in the blast that erupted when the not-snow globe spun awkwardly one too many times and slammed into the ground.

The last thing he remembered was a white light and, for some reason, the whirling of clock gears echoing off into the distance.

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The next thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the starry sky twinkling down at him. Oswald sat up, and rubbed his forehead as he tried to relieve the headache he had.

"Where am I? How long have I been out?" he asked no one in particular, "Did me and Horace go on another 'guys night out', again?"

The rabbit tried to stand, but as soon as he did his headache increased its throbbing forcing him to lean on a nearby tree. "Though," he continued, attempting to gain his composure, "I'm surprised people just left me out here all night. 'Oh, it's just King Oswald, supreme leader of all wasteland. It's not like we should get him inside or anything. Let's just let him lie in the middle of Mean Street and…"

Oswald's eyes opened wide, his headache subsiding and his memory coming back to him.

"Mean Street! That's right! I was fighting the Doctor on Mean Street. Then his… snow globe… thing blow up! And… and…"

The tiny King staggered forward, his white face getting even whiter.

"Something's wrong. I need to get back to the castle! I need to find Gus or Ortensia or…"

He stopped his ranting suddenly as he started to notice his surroundings. He realized there was something odd about his location, particularly the fact that he was no longer on Mean Street or any kind of street for the matter.

Trees. He was surrounded by trees, stretching far into the darkness. They were not any trees he recognized ether. Not that he was an expert on Wasteland flora, but he knew Wasteland like the bottom of his detachable foot and he had never seen trees like these.

Then a thought occurred to him. Was he no longer in Wasteland? But that was impossible. You needed a heart to leave Wasteland. He had tried it once and it had not gone so well. No, no way was he on the outside again. Unless…

The little black rabbit held his hand to his chest, trying to feel the "thump-thump" that he remembered feeling so long ago; a sensation almost faded from his memory.

He felt nothing.

That clenched it. He had to still be in Wasteland. Maybe the trees looked weird because it was so dark. Yeah, that's it.

"Hello!" he called out into the night, "Ortensia! Donald! Goofy! Gus! Anybody!"

No answer. He tried again.

"Hey, guys! It's me. You're well loved and devilishly hansom king, lost in a strange and admittedly spooky forest! Care to give a hand?"

Still no answer. The darkness was fading now, a sign that dawn was approaching. Glancing around franticly, looking for any familiar landmark, Oswald spotted, by the blue, pre-dawn light, a large object in the distance.

"Any port in a dark forest or however that saying goes." And with that Oswald sprinted off toward the object.

As Oswald ran, he saw that the object was, in fact, a wall. A very tall wall, about four stories in height, starched as far as he could see in ether direction.

"Ha! No wall can keep out Oswald, the Lucky Rabbit," He yelled. Finding two very tall trees, the rabbit began to jump one branch to the other until he was high enough to jump to the top of the wall.

The sun rose as he laid eyes upon the other side of the wall, mouth open in astonishment. It was a village, a small but elegant European village, surrounded by the huge wall. The buildings were small but very quaint, with a very old world charm to them. Patches of green were spread out throughout the town and large, gothic buildings could be seen in the distance.

Oswald couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had never seen anything like it and there definitely was not anything like it in Wasteland.

"Then," he exclaimed, "Where am I?"

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Goldcrown Town was a very old and hansom town step in history and myth. The ancient stone wall that surrounded it was originally built to repel invaders, but since then several buildings had popped up outside the wall, scattered among the thick forest surrounded the town. The inner wall was still the town proper, and boasted such very architecturally well built structures such as the prestigious Goldcrown Academy of the Fine Arts, one of the oldest fine arts schools in the country.

But the Academy, and indeed the whole town, was currently in an uproar over two new mysteries that had turned up recently, the most alarming being the so-called "missing month."

It was just as the nickname described, the whole town had completely forgotten an entire month; a strange case of mass amnesia. Not that everything was forgotten, but those few memories left were fuzzy and distant, like a half remembered dream. There was no evidence of what happened, how it happened, or why it happened, and most of the townspeople found the whole thing quit unnerving.

Fortunately, the second mystery was far more lighthearted, and served to distract most from the more distressing one. It was also the most baffling. An entire town losing a month of their lives? Implausible, but not impossible. But this?

The second mystery was also the favored one of Goldcrown Academy, particularly of the ballet division. In fact, the mystery was found near the school itself, and it had become customary for students to visit it during lunch, and marvel at it.

Two such students were walking through the crowed school grounds carrying lunch baskets and chatting as they left the ballet studio headed for the small pond nestled in a large wooded area, the source of the odd phenomenon. Said school grounds were bordered on ether side by both the river that cut through town and the surrounding wall. The two students walked through the main school building, crossed the bridge over the river and out of the grounds, and walked down the streets, just a few of the many girls heading in that direction that wore the white blouse, gray vest, and gray short skirt of the Academy uniform. Most of these girls had impatiently waited all through their morning classes for this chance to see this miracle.

One of the two girls, her purple heir tied in a bun, turned to her companion and asked in a boyish voice, "Hay, Lilié, do you think it will be there today?"

Lilié, her blond, poofy pigtails swaying gently in the wind, replied in a much softer tone, "I don't know, Piké. It didn't appear yesterday."

Piké swung her lunch basket as she walked. "Well, I hope it appears. I don't want to walk all the way there, and not have it show." She frowned.

"Oh, I hope not! That would be horrid." Lilié said in her usual bubbly, happy voice, a huge simile on her sunny face.

The large crowd of students finally reached the wooded area and trekked through a grove of trees, streams of light shining through the branches, until they came to the pond. It was a very small, very quaint little pond, not the kind of place that you would expect something special to happen. One side of the pond, the side the students came up on, was bare of any plants, but the other side was rife with tall grass and reeds, with a small, spare area right before where the water met the shore. It almost looked like a stage, which was appropriate.

Piké and Lilié chose a spot on a nearby hill, and sat down as they opened their baskets. They began to eat as they waited. The murmur of the gathered student filled the air, all eager to see if it would show.

Then at exactly noon, the reeds at the other end of the pond began to rustle. All became silent, concentrating on the makeshift stage. Piké leaned forward, while Lilié looked on starry eyed, her hands in her lap.

The reeds parted, and out stepped a small yellow duck. The duck waddled to the middle of the "stage", and stood there, facing its audience. Then, as if it was following some unknown cue, it struck a pose. A ballet pose, its wings held above its head, and its webbed feet turned inward, one in front of the other. Then the duck began to dance.

It wasn't the most elegant of ballet dances. In fact, it was rather sloppy. Its leaps were not very high, its spines were wobbly, and every once in a while it would stumble. But the mere fact that there was a duck dancing, ballet of all things, was enough to wow the gathered crowed.

Piké sat transfixed, watching the duck's every action. As messy as the dancing was, there was something mesmerizing, something joyful in this duck's movements. It was as if this bird wanted to dance so much that one day it just got up and started to dance. Piké couldn't help but find that enduring.

"Don't you think," she whispered to her friend, "that it is amazing that this duck learned to dance all by it's self."

"Oh, yes!" Lilié gushed back, "I think its adorable how this poor, sweet little duck went through all the trouble to be a ballet dancer, only to fail miserably! Oh, how wonderful!" She clapped her hands over her cheeks, her face beaming.

Piké could only roll her eyes as he turned back to performing waterfowl, who had it's leg raised in a rather shaky attitude position. After a moment she heard a sound, a short grunt. Turning her head to find the source of the sound, she saw someone leaning on a nearby tree, arms folded, a serious look on his young face. He wore the familiar blue blazer and white slacks of the Academy boy's uniform. His long dark hair was tided in a ponytail and his green, piercing eyes were focused on the pond, his mouth in a stern frown.

Piké's face reddened in a blush. It was Senior Fakir, one of the top dancers in the ballet division, and the apple of the eyes of almost every female student at the school. He was gruff, soft-spoken, and preferred to be by himself, but that, of course, only made him dark and mysterious to the dozens of fan girls that swooned over his every move, Piké being one of them. It did help that he was, perhaps, the best dancer in school ever since that one guy left… what was his name…

Piké sighed. Of course, Fakir ignored every girl that declared their love for him, and he refused to take a ballet partner. On top of that, he was always cold and distant, and he never seemed attracted to anyone, not even the boys. Some were questioning if he could even feel love. That couldn't be true, Piké thought, he had to love someone.

Suddenly, Fakir's green eyes snapped to her, the hard look of disapproval within them. Piké jumped a little and quickly turned back to the duck, which was flat on its beak, no doubt after some botched leap. She briefly wondered if a duck could love. Of course not, she told herself. Duck's can't love! That was just silly.

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Oswald hopped from roof to roof, stopping every now and then to get the lay of land. He had been exploring the small town all morning, looking for some evidence that he was still in Wasteland. He found none.

For one thing, he could find no large, talking animals such as himself, only people. All animals he came across were of the small, unintelligent variety. He even tried to hold a conversation with a cat. It just looked at him with a blank stare. And then it bit his finger.

This meant that he was back in the real world, among real people. He should be happy, shouldn't he? After all, isn't this what he wanted for the longest time, to be back in the real world and to be loved by millions of adoring fans?

Except, there were no adoring fans. The fact that he still had no heart told him that much. Also, this place he found him self in seemed very old fashioned. Most of the people he saw were dressed like they were in the middle ages. Only the younger ones wore anything that looked at all modern. He wasn't sure if these people even knew what cartoons were, much less watched them. Best to stay hidden, he concluded.

He continued his hopping; looking for anything that would tell him where he was or why was here.

This isn't right, he thought to himself. I shouldn't be here.

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"I think it's just sad, a worthless duck trying to change it's standing in the world by learning ballet, but in the end it is just a duck. Oh, poor, poor thing!" Lilié was exclaiming, a look of pure joy on her face as the two ballet students walked back to the school grounds.

Piké straightened her back. "I don't think it's trying to change anything. It probably just saw the ballet classes through the lessons room windows and started mimicking the moves." She said, trying to play the rational one. "I really don't think ducks are smart enough to want such things."

"Well, I like my theory better!" Lilié shot back, the wide smile not disappearing from her face.

Piké decided to change the subject. "So, did you see the wonderful Fakir behind us watching the duck?"

"No, why would he be there, do you suppose?"

"Well, he is the best ballet dancer at school. I don't know of any one else who would be more interested in a dancing duck," Piké said offhandedly.

Lilié was not listening, "I bet he came to pity it. Oh, how curl." She was still smiling.

Piké just shrugged. "He looked like he was studying it…"

"You should confess your love to him!" Lilié suddenly blurted out, whipping her head in Piké's direction.

"Are you crazy?" Piké exclaimed, shocked, "You know that he ignores every girl who's done that!"

Lilié sported a happy grin, "I know, and when he rejects you, I will be there to comfort you, you poor thing."

Piké gave her an irritated glance, but remand silent. Maybe this wasn't the best subject to have changed to. Lowering her eyes to the ground, she began to think of something else to talk about.

Lilié's voice brought her out of her thoughts, "Look, there's Faker now!"

Piké stopped in her tracks, and looked at her friend, who was gesturing behind her. She turned around to see, indeed, Fakir was walking towards them, his eyes on his feet in deep thought.

Then Lilié gave a loud shout, "Oh, no! Don't do any thing you will regret!"

Piké turned her head to give Lilié a confused look.

"What are you talking about? I'm not…" She was cut short when Lilié gave her a hard push, causing her to tumble forward. She rolled down the street several feet until she finally came to a stop… right in front of Fakir.

Piké, her bottom planted on the cobblestone, peered up at the senior student, who looked down upon her with a blank stare.

"What are you doing?" he monotoned.

Her face reddening, Piké glanced at Lilié, who was running off in the other direction. Piké quickly stood up and dusted her self off.

"I'm so sorry!' she babbled, her head down, "I hope I didn't bother you. It was an accident, and…"

Fakir, however, just pushed passed her, apparently deciding that whatever it was, it did not interest him.

Piké just watched him walk away, an expression of bewilderment on her face, an expression that quickly changed to one of anger as she stormed after Lilié.

Lilié. For a while now she had been the butt of that girl's pranks and she was getting sick of it. Sometimes, she wished there were someone else for Lilié to pick on.

As Piké was caught up in her rage, she did not see the odd black rabbit running across the roof of the building next to her. Nor did she see the small blunt object fall from said roof. Or that this object was heading right for her.

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"Oh, no!"

Oswald had been sprinting across a rooftop, still looking for anything that might give him an answer, when he felt something give way under his feet. He stumbled to a stop and looked down just in time to see that one of the shingles had come loose, and was sliding down the roof strait for a teenage girl on the street.

He tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. He heard a soft "thwack" as he saw her body fall.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" the rabbit stammered, panic griping him as he hopped on to a lamppost and then to the street below.

"Great! Just great! I'm not in town more then half a day, and I've already killed someone!" he grumbled as he rushed to her side. "This is going to be a repeat of Paris, I just know it."

Once at her side, he could see the large gash on her forehead.

"Hay, Kid!" Oswald shouted, trying to get her to stir, "Come on, kid, wake up. Kid! Can you hear me? Kid!"

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Piké head was spinning. No, she was spinning; spinning faster and faster, blurred images swirling around her. After what felt like forever, no, more like several forevers, the spinning stopped. She tried to clear her clouded head. Where was she? What had she been doing?

That's right. She was heading back to the Academy grounds with her friends. There was Lilié, laughing and talking excitedly, probably about something grim and depressing. She was there, also talking up a storm. And then there was… someone. She couldn't remember her name, but she knew she was her friend.

The nameless girl was also chattering happily, a smile on her freckled face and a glint in her big blue eyes. Her long orange hair, tied into one lone brad that hung down her back, reaching to her knees, swayed in the wind.

Piké tried to make out what was being said, but all she could hear was a hundred voices whispering the word "nothing" over and over.

"Nothing… nothing… nothing…"

She found it odd that she could not understand a word of a conversation she herself was taking part in. In fact, this whole thing seemed rather strange, through her dazed mind couldn't figure out why.

"Nothing, nothing, nothing…"

As she watched her friends, the orange haired girl suddenly looked timid as Lilié leaned close to her, a mischievous grin on her face. Piké leaned in as well, and she realized the two of them were teasing the orange haired girl, probably about a boy she liked. Then Lilié laughed, the orange haired girl laughed, and Piké could feel her face contort in laughter. They looked like they were having fun, three girls on their way to school. Piké felt content watching her silent friends talk, so much so that she did not notice that the voices repeating the word "nothing" were slowly growing louder.

"Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!"

Then, the orange haired girl just vanished, quickly and silently. Piké panicked, but when she turned to Lilié she saw that she was still chatting happily, as if nothing had happened. How could she not notice? Piké thought. Did she not see it? Who was that girl anyway? Why did she disappear?

"_Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!_"

It was getting harder and harder to think, however, for the voices were now booming. "_Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!_" they repeated, over and over, louder and louder. Her head pounded, as her vision blurred, and she began to spin again.

"_Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!_" the voices continued, getting more and more unbearable. The spinning began to worsen, making her head hurt more. Why doesn't this just stop!

Then her vision began to clear and, as it did, she saw a strange, round headed rabbit staring down at her, its face steep in worry. Then she herd a voice pierce the loud din of the "nothing" voices.

"Kid! Say something! Kid, come on. You gotta be okay! Kid!"

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Oswald sighed in relief when the girl's eyes fluttered open and she gave a small groan.

"Thank Iwerks." he breathed. Now, satisfied that she was alright, Oswald could duck out of site before anyone…

"Piké! Piké!"

Oswald lifted his head to see another girl running down the street toward him. Great! He was sure to be spotted if he made a break for it. What was he going to do?

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When Lilié returned to the scene to see if Piké's heart had been properly broken, she was treated … uh … confronted with the site of her best friend lying on the ground. With her heart filled with excitement… eh … worry, Lilié dashed as fast as she could, giggling the entire way. As she knelt next to her friend, she grabbed Piké's bruised head and roughly pressed it to her cheat, starry eyes gazing at the sky.

"Oh, poor, poor Piké! You're rejection was so bad, you fainted from shock! Oh, you poor, poor thing! Don't worry. I'll be here to comfort you!" Lilié cooed, her voice filled with joy.

Piké, the rambunctious actions of her friend brining her too, pushed herself away, and sat up on the ground, gathering her bearings. She felt a dull pain coming from a spot on her forehead, and when she touched said spot with her finger, the pain increased. Was she just attacked?

She turned to Lilié. "What did you do?" she demanded.

Lilié's face lit up in shock. "What ever do you mean?"

Piké leaned forward, pointing an angry finger at the person that she thought was her friend. "I never thought you would go so far as to hit me! Poke, push, and sabotage, maybe. But hit me?"

"I would never do that!" Lilié defended, the anguish in her voice sounding forced and exaggerated.

An unconvinced Piké made to argue when her hand brushed against something soft. Looking down, she saw a black… something lying on the cobblestone street next to her. Picking it up, she held what looked like some sort of stuffed animal. A stuffed rabbit, in fact, with a round head and body, white face, little black dots for eyes, and a par of blue shorts. It also had a big smile plastered on said face, but to her, it seemed forced, like the thing was trying too hard to keep it up.

"How strange." she said. How did this doll get here? Did someone lose it?

"Oh! It must have been left here by the mysterious attacker who assaulted you." Jumped in Lilié, seeing the perfect opportunity to appease her torture subject… um… eh, friend. Yeah, friend.

"Don't be ridiculous." Piké replied, as she inspected the doll, "Some kid must have dropped it. It's odd, though. Why is mostly black? Aren't stuffed animals supposed to be colorful? It makes it look boring. I think it would look better in navy blue, myself." As she said this, she could have sworn that the doll's mouth twitched slightly. No, it must have been her imagination.

"Well, I guess I'll keep it." She concluded, "We have time to stop by the dormitories to drop it off."

Then, Piké herd a low groan, a noise of disappointment. As she turned her head to see where it came from, Lilié sprang up and danced off in the direction of the dorms.

"Well then, come on!" she giggled, "Last one there will have a lifetime of horrible, gut wrenching failure. How wonderful!"

Piké just sat there for a moment, then, realizing something, got up and ran after her.

"Hay!" she called out, "I'm not done chewing you out yet!"

She held the stuffed rabbit under her shoulder, its smile having momentarily disappeared.

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The school dormitories where only a short walk away from the Academy, and students were already coming and going through the narrow streets, getting ready for the afternoon classes. As the two girls entered through the large iron gates, Oswald, from the rather uncomfortable position from under the purple haired girl's arm, took in the well kept courtyard. Well trimmed hedges and grassy lawns flanked ether side of the stone walkway leading up to a fountain on top of which stood an abstract sculpture of two ballet dancers in embrace; a man and a woman. There where two large buildings, one on ether side of the courtyard, both about three or four stories tall and rather elegant.

The girls strolled up to the fountain and turned left, into the building in said direction. Inside, they walked down a long hall, doors on ether side. Little light came through the window at the end of the hallway, that combined with the drab gray color of the walls gave the place a gloomy feel. Soon they came to a stairwell and the girls began to clime.

The purple haired one had apparently forgotten her animosity toward her blond friend, and the two of them were engaged in conversion. Oswald however was over come with fear. When he had decided to act like some sort of stuffed doll, he had hoped that they would ignore him, but they were not ignoring him. No, this was the exact opposite of ignoring him.

Oh, what was he worrying about? All they were doing was dropping him off in purple hair's room, where escape would be easy. Unless, of course, they lock the door. And the window. Or they lock him in a trunk. Or the closet. Or tie him to a ten-ton weight. Or soak him in lemon juice, beat him with a burlap sack filled with cream cheese, and feed him to a hungry kangaroo… okay, now he was just being silly. He forced himself to calm down. After all, he had been in worse scraps then this. Being held captive by two school girls was nothing compared to the Shadow Blot. He could handle what ever came his way. He hoped.

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Piké and Lilié reached the third floor, and then walked down the hall, finally stopping at a door near its end. After a moment to fish her key out of her vest pocket, the two girls entered Piké's room. It was modest but cozy, despite the walls being the same color gray as the halls. It had all the necessities, a desk in one corner by the door, a bed, its headboard against the left wall, a large ballet poster over the bed and a window on the far wall, which overlooked the courtyard below.

Piké dropped her new acquisition on the bed, and turned to Lilié.

"We have sometime before our afternoon classes. What do you want to do till then."

"Ooh, ooh…" Lilié jumped in eagerness, "let's take your new bunny doll, soak him in lemon juice, beat him with as burlap sack filled with cream cheese, and feed him to a hungry kangaroo!"

An awkward silence ensued, as Piké gave her friend a shocked stare, not noticing that the rabbit also had an equally shocked look on its face.

"No," she said simply, "I was thinking more along the lines of walking around the school and listening to gossip." She continued to give Lilié a weird look.

Lilié, however, leaped onto the bed and bring the stuffed doll into a tight hug. This caused the doll to make a nose something akin to a gasp. Hmm… the squeaker must have been broken.

"Can we at lest tie him to a ten-ton weight!" she pleaded.

"No!" Piké shouted, and then gave her an odd look, "You seem to have taken a liking to that thing."

Lilié's large smile only got bigger. "I just think he is so cute. I want to hug him and comfort him."

As soon as she said that, she smacked the doll's head into the wall.

Piké continued to stare. "You seem very violent toward it." She noted.

"Of course, silly!" Lilié laughed, "You can't comfort someone unless their in pain. Every one knows that!" and having given out that useful fact, she continued to slam the stuffed animal against the wall, over and over, for a full minute, all the while the doll made odd, grunting noises. Finally, she dropped the doll onto the bed.

"Are you done?" Piké asked, not really caring one way or the other.

"Not yet," Lilié chimed, "just one more!"

Piké could only watch, confused, as Lilié got up from the bed, backed away from it till she was near the door, then ran toward the bed, juddering out her elbow and taking a flying leap, pile driving the doll right in the stomach. Piké was even more confused, however, when a loud, male scream erupted from the doll, causing Lilié to jump back. The doll continued this trend of undoll-like behavior by leaping to its feet and turning on the girls, shaking its fist at them.

"That's it! I've had just about as mush as I can…" It trailed off as realized just what it had done.

An awkward silence followed, the three parties standing unmoving, with a dumfounded look on each of their faces. Well, two of their faces. Lilié's face held a look of unprecedented glee. After a few moments, Piké made the first move, apprehending a book from the desk nearby, and tossed it at the strange talking rabbit doll. The rabbit, apparently too surprised to move, was hit squarely on the head, causing it to topple back, off the bed.

"Wait, I…" was all he could say before Lilié, the delicate flower that she was, snatched the discarded book from were it had landed on the bed as she crawled over it to the other side, dropped down to were the rabbit lie, and began to bash his head in with said book, all while giving a shriek of terror that sounded suspiciously like a squeal of joy.

"Oh, how horrible!" she exclaimed as she continued her violent assault, "A terrible monster has come to gobble us up! What a rotten creature you are to take advantage of poor, defenseless little girls!"

"Defenseless!" the rabbit shouted in-between beatings, "Look… I just… wanted to… see if … the other… girl was… alright…"

Piké's shocked expression vanished when she herd this. "What?"

The rabbit stammered its words quickly, trying to talk before each concussion. "I was… running on the rooftops…a shingle came loose…hit you on the head… tried to make sure you were… okay… I'm far away from home… lost… didn't want any one to see me… pretended to be a doll…sorry if I scared you… please don't kill me… not very healthy… being killed."

A worried look crossing her face, Piké scooted across the bed, and held Lilié's arm right before she gave the poor monstrosity another hit.

The rabbit took his chance, sprang up, and rushed over to the window. In one swift motion, the window was open and the strange rabbit was gone. Piké got up and looked out the window just in time to see a black spot dash across the courtyard below and disappeared.


	2. The Lonely Door

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 2

Oswald ran. He ran fast and he ran hard. He bounced from one rooftop to the other, not really going anywhere in particular. He ran and ran, with his eyes wide, and his mouth agape. And all the time he was running, in his mind, he keep repeating the same four words over and over, "I don't belong here. I don't belong here. I don't belong here."

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"That was pathetic!" Fakir sneered, glaring down at a small shape no bigger then a bread basket, it's big, blue eyes timidly looking back, "What good was all that practice if this was the best you can do!"

The dark haired boy stood in an area behind the school, a small space between a building and the large wall that surrounded the town. The ground was nothing but dirt and the only green to be found was from the few scant bushes and a tree or two. The target of his ire was currently hiding in such a bush, ether not wanting to let one of the other students see her, or being too ashamed to let Fakir see her fully.

Sticking her tiny head out in to the open, she answered his quarry in a series of rapid quacks, "Quack quack, quack-quack, quack quack quack, quack."

"Don't give me that old excuse," Fakir shot back, "if you focused more, you wouldn't be in this sorry state!"

The shape cast her blue eyes to the ground. She gave off a sad, dejected, "Quack quack-quack, quack."

"Well, maybe you're not trying hard enough!" Fakir spat, taking a few steps toward the bush, towering over the shape, "Maybe you really don't want to be more then what you are. Maybe you are content with being just a duck; just a useless duck."

From the bush came a frantic response, "Quack-quack, quack! Quack quack quack-quack, quack!"

"Then I will see you tomorrow in the usual place, and don't be late this time!" he turned to leave, but paused, one eye on the shape, "One more thing, I don't want you to put on another performance until I think you've improved."

The little head shot up to reply, but was met with an angry stare that kept her quite.

"Idiot." He muttered under his breath as he walked off, leaving the small shape alone.

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The rest of Piké's day was uneventful; first off to the lessens room for afternoon practice, next a quick change, and off to a proper classroom for academic lessons, then, with school over, a walk around town with Lilié, and finally returning to the dormitories before curfew and up to bed. Through it all, she could not forget the strange rabbit-doll-monster-thing, wondering if that story it spattered out was true and if it was, hoping it somehow got home. Wherever that is.

She shook her head. There was nothing she could do for it now. She needed to get her mind off it, she thought as she got ready for bed. As she pulled up the covers, her mind drifted to the wonderful Fakir. She hadn't seen him since the park. This was not usual for Fakir; rumor had it that he was looking to transfer to the literary division, and thus had been spending all his free time in the library reading and writing. There had been, however, some who clamed there were times in the day were he was absent from there as well, disappearing from the school grounds completely.

Piké smiled, it was things like this that made Fakir so wonderful. He was so aloof, so mysterious. This is why Fakir had every girl in school fawning over him, including Piké. Not that she would ever be the one. She would be satisfied if he just found someone, and live happily ever after. Any girl will do. Well… any girl but Lilié, she might kill him in his sleep. Stifling a great yawn, Piké reached over to her lamp, switching it of, and leaned back in her bed. It was no time to think of Fakir or rabbits or other such things, she told herself, things will work out. No need to worry at all.

She rolled on her side, closed her eyes, and let sleep take her, hoping for only the most peaceful dreams.

Then those hundred voices began their chanting, "Nothing… nothing… nothing…"

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The night was cold. Very cold. The cold wind blew through the cold sky and shook the cold trees as a cold rabbit curled up under a cold park bench trying his best not to be cold and failing.

Oswald held himself as he shivered, eyes staring out into the darkness, unfocused and scared. He hadn't been this scared since the Blot… no, no this was worse. He thought it had been bad when he had exiled himself to Mickeyjunk Mountain to guard the jug, the Mad Doctor betraying him, his friends missing and him left sad and dejected. But now he realized he had been lucky, ironically enough. Even then he had at lest a roof over his head, a warm bed to retire to, and a pack of minions to do his biding. No, this was true exile; lost with no way, no home and no one to trust.

His day had been in a word, horrid. His encounter with that girl and her crazy friend had only been the tip of the iceberg. As he was escaping the dormitory grounds, he ran into a ferocious dog that chased him for three blocks before he lost it. As the day wore on and he got hungry, he tried to steal some food from some restraint in a wooded area, only to be chased out by the female chef throwing various cooking utensils, including a very solid kettle. His head still ached. An attempted to sneak into a house for shelter resulted in a similar eviction, and now he was under a bench, starving and freezing.

He closed his eyes tightly, a single tear hitting the dirt. He missed his friends. He missed Ortensia and their children, he missed Horace and Clarabelle, he missed the animatronic Donald and Goofy, he missed Gus and the gremlins, and he missed Wasteland. There! He said it! That place that for a long time he wanted to leave, to escape, to forgo for fame and stardom. He wanted to go back. He didn't want to be here, cold, hungry and alone.

Moving to the side slightly to stick his head out from underneath the bench, he gazed up at the starry sky, shining bright and beautiful in its complete indifference to his suffering. As he gazed, he said, in a horse whisper, "What now?"

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Piké did not sleep very well that night. Not very well at all.

All night, she had been in and out of sleep, propelled out of her rest each time by nightmare after nightmare. At lest, she thought they were nightmares, though she never had nightmares quite like these. And the strangest thing is that that orange haired girl was in all of them.

They all started mundane enough. She, Lilié and the mystery girl would do ordinary girl things, such as walk about town engaged in a pleasant conversion, though she still could not hear what was being said. And just as all three seemed to become relaxed the strange girl with the brad suddenly disappears to a chorus of "nothing" and Piké would spring awake. The first few times this happened, Piké was more confused then anything else, so she would shrug it off and go back to sleep.

But it only continued: a peaceful dream with the orange hair girl; the very same girl vanishing; and Piké awake, upright in her bed. As she continued to watch this braded hared, freckled teenaged girl fade out of existence over and over, she began to feel something about this girl, like she should know who she is.

This strange uneasiness increased, and as she watched the poor girl disappear at the end of every dream, uneasiness turned to distress, distress turned to despair, till finally she woke up terrified. After that, she refused to go back to sleep until it was time for morning classes, four hours later.

As a result, when she got to the lessens room, she had to perform the physically strenuous morning ballet practice while completely exhausted, Lilié pestering her the entire time, saying how sad it was that Piké had been affected so much from yesterday's adventure, and that she would be there to hold her and comfort her and make sure she would not get better.

It was silly, Piké now thought, to loose sleep over a girl that doesn't exist. Because of those stupid dreams, even the most rudimentary starch on the barre was a chore; she was going to be signaled out by the teacher for her sloppy performance, that's for sure.

As she raised her left leg onto the barre, grabbing onto the long horizontal pole for support, she glanced around the large lessons room, its huge windows flooding the room with light as the other students scattered around the room did various exercises. The rest of the beginner's class was warming up for the upcoming lessons and she was still getting started. Piké gave a sigh. If she didn't shape up she might even be dropped down to the probationary class.

She gave off a yawn, her eyelids feeling heavy as she turned her head back to the barre. It's okay, she told herself, all she had to do was survive till lunch, and then she might be able to sleep for an hour or…

"Piké, are you listening?"

Piké slowly turned her head to Lilié, on the barre next to her.

"I'm sorry." she apologized, "You were saying something?" She gave a half-hearted smile.

Lilié looked into Piké's tired eyes and showed her worry and concern by braking into giddy laughter. "I just said that I wonder what happened to that rabbit-thingy from yesterday."

"I really don't care what happened to it." She intoned, head turning forward, staring into space.

"Oh, I bet he spent the whole night shivering under a park bench, poor thing." She happily sang.

Piké did not look at her, eyes barely open. "He's a rabbit; a wild animal. He'll be fine."

"But think of all the horrible, horrible things out there: thieves, murderers, muggers, fearsome beasts, monsters, geese…"

"Uh-hmm…" Piké murmured.

"…vampires, werewolves, circus clowns, squids, forty-story tall birds, man-eating onions… Oh, that poor little rabbit, alone against the world. It just fills me with excitement!"

"Hmmm…"

"Oh, I wish I could hug him and squeeze him and call him… Piké are you listening?"

Lilié turned to see Piké, her head down and her eyes closed, yet her leg was still up on the barre, standing on the other leg while still in mid-stretch.

Lilié gave off the nastiest sweet smile ever, but her attempts to gush over how pathetic her friend was were interrupted by a loud, authoritative voice.

"Miss Piké!"

Piké bolted awake, tumbling out of her precarious position. Oh great, she thought, the teacher.

She quickly picked herself off the floor as she spied the figure moving toward her. It was a giant cat, six feet tall, clad in a green leotard and… oh, wait…no it wasn't.

It was a woman, tall and lean, her brown hair cut short and posture impeccable. Her stern face, young enough to be attractive but old enough to have the wrinkles of age and wisdom, was set in a frown. Her very well built body was clad in a purple leotard, and she walked with all the grace of a prima ballerina.

It was Madame Verrückt, the ballet instructor, and definitely human.

Why did she think the teacher was a cat? Piké shook her head. The lack of sleep must have been getting to her. How could she forget Madame Verrückt?

After the "missing month" happened, the people of the town did what people do when faced with a puzzle that requires calm, patients and a level head to solve: they panicked. Once the madness died down and the fires put out, the school decided to do something smart and count up the students and faculty to make sure no one was missing. Everyone was accounted for… except for the ballet instructor. Not only was the ballet instructor missing, according to the records they didn't have one, not for years, which was ridiculous, when you consider the full class of ballet students of different levels, proof that someone had been instructing. Trying to remember what happened was useless, all any one could recall was that there had been a ballet instructor, just not who it was. After shooing away a random stray cat found in the lessons room, they went to work finding a new instructor as quickly as possible, and Madame Verrückt was the only one who would take the job in such short notice.

The woman marched up to Piké, hands behind her back, face humorless. "Miss Piké, did I just see you sleeping in my class… in the middle of a stretch?" she raised an eyebrow as she said this last part.

Piké made to answer, but Lilié was quicker. "Oh, no ma'am, she was just… um …closing her eyes tight in concentration. She would never sleep in your class."

Piké was stunned. It seemed that, despite all the pushing, smothering and assaulting of stuffed animals, somewhere deep down, Lilié really did ca…

"After all, you know poor, poor Piké is not good enough to sleep in class, such a sad thing."

…or maybe not.

Madame Verrückt leaned over so that her eyes met the small girl. "Very well, Miss Piké, I will be lenient this once, but if I catch you napping again, I will make you m… m… m…"

Piké's back stiffened in terror. This is it; she was going to force her to m…

"Marinade an anthill!" Madame Verrückt proclaimed and then promptly cartwheeled away, a move, Piké was certain, that was not taught in ballet.

Piké blinked. Why had she got so nervous for? It was just one Madame Verrückt's weird threats. Nothing ever came of them, a sign that she got off easy.

Relieved, she returned to the barre as she ignored Lilié's continued prodding. Her head was still heavy with sleepiness as she shakily brought up her other leg to starch. This is going to be a long day, she thought, but at lest after today it would be over.

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Piké staggered down the cobblestone street completely unable to walk in the manner of a human being. Morning classes had been torture. Her body had been too weak from the sleepless night to do anything, made worse by Madame Verrückt's watchful eye and Lilié's attempts to find new ways to comfort and insult her at the same time. She had to keep her self from cheering in glee when the class was dismissed for lunch.

All she wanted now was to slump back to the dormitories and get some much needed sleep, or what little she could get before afternoon classes start. Behind her, Lilié marched happily, basking in her friend's misery.

"Oh, poor, poor Piké, exhausted from yesterday's excitement. Such a delicate thing you are!"

Piké made a small, angry noise, but said nothing. She was not in the mood to deal with Lilié, not when she couldn't properly deal with walking. Seriously, why was she friends with this girl, anyway? It was a mystery… literally. Several months ago, she was a new student just getting settled and was surprised she had been even accepted into the Academy, frankly. She had seen Lilié a few times, with their room right next to each other it was inevitable, but they had not really talked all that much. Then the "missing month" happened, and suddenly they were best friends… for some reason. The few memories she retained only told her so much, and her pride kept her from breaking the friendship. Sometimes, she wondered what happened during that month that caused her to befriend such an odd girl.

As soon as this last thought crossed her mind, a sharp pain hit her forehead, on the spot she had been hit the day before. She came to a halt, almost causing Lilié to crash into her.

Piké brought her hand to her head as the world began to spin again. Dazed, she tried to stagger forward … only to find that she was already walking, upright too, unlike a moment ago. As the pain lessened, she saw that she was no longer on the small lane headed toward the dormitory, but on a large street flanked by fancy shops and restaurants, an area she immediately recognized as the shopping district. Also strange was the fact that she was alone, a fact that a quick glance behind her confirmed. The strangest of all, however, was something that she didn't notice: that there was _not_ a chorus of a thousand voices chanting "nothing."

The teenaged girl continued to walk, glide almost, along the path, looking about her in a strangely casual fashion. Then, she saw her, the orange haired girl of her dreams, standing at the corner. She was wearing the oddest outfit Piké had ever seen in her life: the top was off-white with yellow frills at the end of the long sleeves; the shorts where an ugly shade of yellow, puffed out making her hips look ridiculously wide for her age, and had a pair a wings embroidered on the each side; the shoes where a pair of red clog-like things with red and white striped socks polled up to just below the knees; and completing the outfit, a dark red, tear drop shaped pendent hanging from her neck. This, combined with her far off expression, made her seem like a lost little duckling looking for her mother.

When the girl's blue eyes came upon Piké they lit up like searchlights, and she made to walk toward her. She had an unsure look on her freckled face, and as she spoke, in a voice far too young for a preteen, she stuttered and paused constantly as if she had not talked to anyone in years.

"A-are… you f-from the… dancing s-school?" she squeaked.

Piké tilted her head in curiosity. The girl must have seen her uniform. "Do… do you mean the Academy?" she ventured. The girl's eyes lit up again, her face bright with wonder and excitement like a three-year-old. "Yes! Yes! A-academy! B-ballet! I wish to dance ballet!"

That was a bold statement, Piké thought. Before she could answer, a loud, horribly bubbly voice emerged from behind her.

"Oh, how adorable!"

She turned her head and there she was: Lilié, both hands clasped together and touching her right cheek. Piké had so many questions for her: where have you been?; Who is this girl?; Do you know her?; but the only thing to leave her mouth was the last thing she wanted to say. "Who are you?"

Lilié just walked past her and over to the strange girl, with a nastily giddy smile on her face and gave the girl massive hug, startling the poor thing.

Piké found herself saying things she shouldn't be again. The words just came out of her mouth.

"I know you! You're that girl in the room next to mine."

Lilié, however, was too busy depriving the orange-head of air to notice Piké. "Oh, you poor thing! To have diluted you're self into thinking that a pathetic nobody like you can get into the Academy. Oh, poor, poor thing!"

The girl fought her way out of Lilié's hug, and began flapping her arms up and down angrily, as if she was trying to take flight. "I did! I did! I did get into the Academy! See! See!"

Out of her pocket she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Lilié. As Lilié smoothed out the paper, Piké peered over her shoulder to get a look. She recognized it immediately: an acceptance letter from the Goldcrown Academy of the Fine Arts Ballet Division.

Piké looked back at the orange haired girl, who was darting her head about her as if looking through new eyes.

"You can dance?" she ventured.

"Yes, I c-can!" the girl stated. She lifted her leg and arms in an Attitude pose… and promptly fell on her bottom.

Lilié gave a squeal, and rushed over to the girl on the ground. She began to fawn over her and tell her how wonderfully pathetic she was. The girl just sat there, looking dejected, as if she crushed all her dreams the moment she fell. Then a hand appeared, offering to help her up. Rising her head, she saw Piké, smiling down at her. "Well, if you have an acceptance letter, they must have wanted you. I'm Piké, what's your name."

"My name is…"

"Piké!"

Another moment of dizziness Piké was back where she was a moment ago, on the street going toward the dormitories. She was bent down, a position she did not remember getting in, gasping for air. She turned her head to see Lilié, standing there with a look of concern that seemed suspiciously like a look of bliss.

"W-what happened?" Piké asked, trying to steady herself as she stood.

Lilié jumped up and down in excitement. "You were just standing there for the last few minutes, mumbling to your self. I was so worried!" she said as she continued to jump happily.

Piké rubbed her forehead, the pain and dizziness already subsiding. It was all just a dream, nothing to worry about. It was just like the dreams from last night… except it happened while she was awake… and she could understand what everyone was saying… and it was clearer and easier to remember than normal dreams… OK, maybe there was something to worry about.

She turned to face Lilié. There was something she had to know.

"Uh, Lilié," she asked, not sure how to proceed, "did you… have you… do you remember ever meeting a girl with freckles and a long, braded, orange hair?"

For perhaps the first time that day, Lilié's face changed from a cheerful grin to a meditative frown as she retreated into the arcane horrors that were her thoughts.

"No, I don't think so… there was that one girl… no wait, she was bald, never mind!" Her smile returned, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." Piké said, feeling a lot better now. All she needed now was some sleep, and to forget about the dreams. "Let's just get back to the dorms."

"Don't you want to go see the Dancing Duck?"

"'Dancing Duck?'"

"That's what all the girls are calling it. Come on, who knows when it will stop appearing." Lilié pleaded.

"You can go if you want." Piké sighed, "I'm beat. I didn't get any sleep last night."

"Oh, you poor, poor, poor, poor thing, still bothered by yesterdays encounter with that horrid beast!"

Piké raised an eyebrow. "You were the one who wondered if it was alright."

"Oh! That's because I think horrid beasts are adorable. They're just so cute, for unnatural monstrosities."

"Hay, I resent that remark!"

The two girls stopped in their tracks, heads whipping about, looking for the familiar voice; the voice they heard yesterday. The rustling of a nearby bush caught their attention, nestled between a tree and the side of a building. It would have been easy to miss. Pulling the branches aside, they found the rabbit-thing, franticly scooping dirt out a small indentation in the ground, barely a few centimeters deep. It didn't seem to notice them as it continued its shoveling, its attention occupied by its futile effort.

After a few moments of watching this strange endeavor, Piké spoke, "Um, excuse me…"

The rabbit sprang up and spun around, its tiny black dot eyes wide in shock, darting between the two girls.

"How did you find me?" it demanded.

"You just called out to us!" Piké exclaimed.

"I did?" the rabbit said, adopting a look of worry. It was at this point that Piké noticed the rabbit looked a bit shabbier than it did the day before. Its black, inky fur was ruffled and covered in dirt and mud, and its eyes held a crazed look.

"Maybe I did." It said thoughtfully. "I've been saying odd things lately without me knowing. Yellow cement cheesecake. Though, how do I know I say odd things without knowing if I say odd things without knowing? Giant man-eating pineapples. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Pig from apricot-land."

Suddenly the rabbit leaped into the air and Piké could feel a pair of long feet land on her head, a large, upside down, black and white head blocking her vision.

"But, enough about me, let's talk about me!" the rabbit babbled. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Them?"

"Yes, they have been watching me for hours. They think I haven't noticed them, but, oooohhh, I'm too clever for them. Look! There's one of them now!" It pointed into the street at an old, discarded boot lying on its side. Piké glanced back at the round face not an inch from her own to see that one of its eyes was twitching.

Before Piké could say anything, Lilié spoke up, "Oh, and what have you been working on over there." She pointed to the hole the rabbit had been digging, if one could call it a hole.

It hopped down from Piké's head, "Oh, that? That's the burrow I've been tunneling all morning!" It exclaimed proudly.

"All morning!" Piké repeated.

"Yeah, but it's not done yet. Can't find a place to put the jacuzzi."

Piké decided she had enough. "Yes, well, good luck with that!" she said as politely as possible. "I'm sorry I can't stay and talk crazy with you, but I must really be going…" she turned to leave.

"Not so fast!" The rabbit suddenly erupted, marching over to Piké, passing Lilié, who had, and would continue to, watch the scene the same way someone would watch a couple of kittens sleeping in the sun.

"Now that you two know that I am here, I'm afraid you will have to… _die_!"

Piké stood shocked, unable to move, as the rabbit sprinted forward, stopped in front of her… and… and… kicked her in the shin. It wasn't even a very hard kick ether; she barely felt anything.

"Are you dead, yet?" the rabbit inquired, its eye still twitching.

Piké's eyes glanced about, not sure how to answer. "No…" she said carefully.

It gave her another light kick. "How 'bout now?"

"No."

Another kick. "Now?"

"No."

Another one. "You dead now?"

"No."

Another one. "Dead now?"

"No."

Another one. "Dead now?"

Piké felt it was time to ask the rabbit a question that had been bugging her since she set eyes on it again, "Are you okay?"

"Oh, sure, I'm fine. Just fine. Feeling a little cranky, maybe a little psychotic, but other than that… _of course I'm not okay_!" It suddenly shouted, its eyes twitching, "I didn't receive any sleep last night! Do you think I normally act like this? I'm exhausted! Oh, but you wouldn't know any thing about that, would you? While I was starving under a park bench," at this, Lilié gave an I-told-you-so-esque sound that the rabbit ignored, "you have been eating plenty of delicious food, sleeping in a comfy bed, and served on hand and foot by your playing card minions!"

At Piké's look of confusion at that last one, the rabbit added, "Wait, you don't have playing card minions, do you? Well, it doesn't matter. I don't need you! I have my burrow, so why don't you two just go… do… girl… things!" And with that, he pivoted on his foot, and marched off… promptly tripped over his "burrow."

Piké looked sadly upon the rabbit as it (no, he) slowly, pitifully picked himself off the ground, pausing once or twice as if he wasn't sure he wanted to get up or not.

"Oh, so cute!" Lilié, who had been watching the exchange silently but ecstatically, couldn't stop herself any longer, and jumped out and grabbed the rabbit in a hug, the cracking of bones could be heard as she squeezed.

"Oh, you lost, lonely, sad creature, with nowhere to go. How lovely. Oh, if only there was just someway for me to protect this poor thing!" she gushed as she strangled the terrified rabbit, the false worry and false concern in her voice sounding particularly false. Her face lit up in a false epiphany. "I have the most wonderful idea! You can stay with me in my room! Isn't that great!"

"_Noooooooo_!" the rabbit exclaimed, wriggling out of her arms and leaping back before calming himself, "Uh… I mean, it's not like I don't appreciate the offer, crazy-girl-that-almost-killed-me, but people would get the wrong idea. Yeah, let's go with that." He spattered, obviously still shaken up by his last encounter with her.

"Ah, how cute, you're shy. Don't worry, little bunny rabbit, Auntie Lilié is here!" Lilié said, smiling wider and holding out her arms.

"Auntie!" the rabbit huffed, "I'm old enough to be your grandfather's grandfather."

Lilié made a frown that looked a lot like a grin, "What's wrong, bunny. Why don't you like me?"

"Why? You tried to kill me yesterday!"

"Oh, I've tried to kill Piké dozens of times already, and she never says anything."

"Are you some kind of teenage psychopa…?"

"Hay!"

The rabbit and the blond haired girl immediately stopped their bickering and turned their heads to the purple haired student standing in the street, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

"I know where he can stay."

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The two girls walked swiftly down the drab gray hallway of the girl's dormitories, Oswald close behind, glancing here and there, hoping that no one would burst out of one of the many doors flanking them. He still didn't know if he could trust these girls, but what choice did he have. After just one night he had been behaving like a lunatic. If these young ones had shelter, he couldn't pass it by. And if it was a trap… well, then he was prepared to die the way a king should: crying like a little girl.

As they continued, they came to the purple haired girl's door, the last door in the hall… and walked right past it. At first, Oswald was confused, but as they came to the hall's end, he found that it was not quite the end as a small passage in the right wall came into view. They turned into it and there, at the top of four steps, was a lonely door.

"Kind of hidden for a dormitory room, isn't it?" he questioned.

"It's a dorm room alright. But the other girls say that no one has stayed here in years, probably because it is so tucked away like this." the purple haired girl explained as she tried the knob. "Rats, it's locked!"

"Step aside." said Oswald, deciding that if he was going to go along with this, he might as well go all the way. He removed one of his long ears from his head, ignoring the gasp from the purple haired girl. He then pressed an invisible button near the top and out popped several Swiss Army tools. He muttered as he began to sort them out, "Lets see… big knife… small knife… tweezers…. nose-hair clippers… nuclear powered potato peeler… comb… ah, here we go: lock-pick! I'll have this open before you can say 'Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.'"

He got to work, and in a short while he heard the soft "click" of the tumblers falling. He turned the knob and the two girls and rabbit entered through the doorway.

Well, Oswald had to concede, it was a room alright; it just wasn't like any school dorm room he had ever seen before. In fact, it looked more like a loft. He wasn't even sure where the bed was until he looked back and saw it was right of the door, suspended above the ground in a bunk, accessed by a ladder. The only piece of furniture was a battered table in the middle of the room and a beam of light streaming out of the window brought little warmth to the dark space. But what really got Oswald was the immense feeling of loneliness that permeated every bit of the room. Oswald knew a thing or twelve about loneliness, in fact he considered himself to be an expert on the subject, so he knew that particular feeling when he felt it. In fact, it's not a feeling that's altogether easy to forget.

"Wow, I've never been in here before." The purple haired girl marveled, "Gives me a sort of sad, uneasy feeling."

"I know!" cheered the blond girl, "Isn't it wonderful?"

Oswald shrugged, "I've been in worst." It was true. This definitely beat a mountain of merchandise featuring the mug of a hated, younger half-brother.

The purple haired girl's face lit up. "So this will do?"

"Sure, at lest it's a roof over my head." He turned to the girl, "Hay, Kid. What's your name?"

The girl was taken aback, embarrassed that she had forgotten her manners. "I'm Piké," she gesture to the blond, "and that's Lilié." Lilié widened her smile in response.

Oswald gave a cocky grin, "Oswald." He introduced himself and turned to look out the window. "So, you said this was a dormitory? For a school?"

"The Goldcrown Academy of the Fine Arts." Piké answered, "One of the best art schools around. Lilié and I are in the ballet division."

"Ballet?" the rabbit king pondered, "Isn't that that thing with the dancing alligators and hippos?"

Lilié gave a giggle, but Piké grabbed her head as if in pain. "No," she said after a while, "just humans."

"Oh, well, that doesn't matter," he said, leaping onto the table, "the important thing is that we're all entertainers here!"

"Entertainers?" Piké said, crossing her arms in disbelief. "You are an entertainer?"

Oswald puffed his chest out in pride. "Oswald the Lucky Rabbit: cartoon star extraordinaire! Perhaps you've head of me?"

Piké shoot a glance at Lilié, who just shrugged. "No…"

Oswald lowered his head, his proud expression turning melancholy. "Yeah, of course you haven't. I bet you've hear of my brother, though; Mickey Mouse."

"No," Piké tilted her head in thought, "can't say I have."

"Of course, you've heard of him, everyone and their grandmother's dentist ha- what did you say?"

His head suddenly shot up, nonexistent heart racing.

"I never herd of him." Piké said with a shrug. Lilié gave a confused look.

Oswald could not believe what he was hearing, "You haven't heard of Mickey Mouse? You know, short guy, round ears, red shorts, high squeaky voice…"

Lilié clasped her hands together. "Oh, he sounds adorable. I do hope he's suffering!"

"Wait," Piké raised her eyebrow, "you're a rabbit but your brother's a mouse? How dose that work?"

Oswald didn't answer; he was too busy being shocked. "You don't know who Mickey Mouse is…"

Piké came forward, slamming her palm onto the table. "Yes! I don't know him! Is there a reason I should?"

Oswald continued to stare at the girl, trying to contain his shock. How could she not know who Mickey Mouse was? Everyone knew who Mickey Mouse was, just as no one knew of him. All these years and now he found someone who didn't know his goody-two shoes brother? After thinking that Mickey was pretty much the most popular… thing in all of creation, he finally, finally found someone completely ignorant of that stupid mouse! What good did that do him n…

A thought crossed Oswald's mind, and a smile spread across his face.

"No, no reason you should of heard of him." He said, answering Piké's question five minutes after she had asked it. "Just my younger brother; no one to be concerned about. Just a nobody; a has-been. I, on the other hand, am astounded that you haven't herd of me. I'm world famous." He put his hands behind his back, crossing his fingers.

"Really?" Lilié suddenly stepped forward, excitement in her eyes.

"Y-yes…" Oswald stammered, taken by surprise by Lilié's sudden interest, but it did not take long for his ego to take over, and his chest returned to a puffed out position, "Of course I am! I've been in dozens… no… hundreds of cartoons-"

"What are cartoons?" a skeptical Piké asked.

"Be quit, you!" Oswald snapped at her before turning back to the starry-eyed Lilié, "Yes, I am famous, perhaps the most famous cartoon character in the world. I've been in everything: books, toys, moves, comics, video games…"

"What's a video game?" Piké asked again.

"I said quit!" Oswald hissed and turned back to Lilié. "So you see, my face has been on pretty much everything. Why, there is probably no place were I am not known."

"Except here." Piké snarked with a sly smile.

Oswald gave her a fierce glare but before he could say anything, Lilié cut in. "Oh, I always wanted to meet a celebrity."

Oswald's heart skipped a beat; at lest, it would have if he had one. Finally, after such a long time, a fan. Someone to adorer him, to cheer him, to ask him for his autograph, to…

"I love celebrities! There is nothing more tragic than a celebrity! I adorer to hear of how they fall from the public spotlight, becoming husks of their former selves, forgotten to the ages." She said this in a manner of a five-year-old talking to her favorite doll.

Oswald's long ears suddenly went limp, his bottom hitting the table top. After that he just sat there, sadly.

Piké stepped forward worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"Just forget everything I just said." He sighed to the floor. "I'm not famous. Just forget it."

Piké made to say something but was interrupted by the soft chimes of a faraway clock.

Lilié gave a delighted squeal. "Classes are starting! Come on, Piké, we don't want to be late!" she singsonged, dancing out the door.

"Hay!" Piké shouted, "I haven't gotten any rest, yet!"

Piké scampered to the door, but the rabbit's voice stopped her.

"Hay, Kid!"

Piké turned her head to Oswald, still sitting on the table, with a sad smile.

"Thanks."

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The chimes carried far across the little town, alerting students that it was time to return for classes. It even reached the small pond nestled deep within the large park; a small pond that was currently surrounded by a crowd of very disappointed students.

The Dancing Duck had not shown. Noon had come and gone with no duck, and as the bells chimed, the students reluctantly stood from there spots on the grass.

This wasn't an unusual occurrence, the duck would sometimes disappear for a day, maybe two, but it was still a disappointment none the less. The only thing the sad teenagers could do as they marched back to school was hope that it would be there the next day.

No one had noticed that Fakir had been missing from his usual spot under the tree.


	3. Sweet Dreams and Stupid Dreams

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 3

Ballet is well known for being one of the most graceful and elegant forms of dance ever conceived in the world of the performing arts. In fact, the prima ballerina has become the symbol of the ultimate feminine being. But little do many know that it is also one of the most strenuous and punishing forms of dance, one where concentration and exercise must be constantly maintained for one's safety. That is why students begin training at such a young age, to install the discipline and physical fitness necessary for said maintaining.

And there is no better example of this than the ballet dancer's famous ability to balance on the very tip of their toes: En Pointe. Piké herself found this out the hard way. She and the rest of the beginner's class were currently standing on the tips of both feet wearing beginner's toe shoes. They clung on to the barre trying to keep steady as Madame Verrückt rushed about the room, making sure each student had their back straight. These exercises were to strengthen the toes and prepare them for one leg.

And it hurt like nothing else!

Piké's feet were already beginning to throb, and her lack of sleep wasn't helping ether, as the resulting slouching made her the prime target for Madame Verrückt's reprimands. The only consolation was the pained noises coming from the girl in front of her. Though the girl's back was facing her, Piké could tell from the grunts and yelps coming from Lilié that, for once, the blond haired girl was in as much pain as she was.

Finally, after some time, Madame Verrückt spoke up, "OK, I believe that's enough! We're done for the day. Time to rest those feet!"

Almost at once, the entire class toppled to the floor. Piké sighed as she sat up and began to massage her sore toes. Never in all her life had she thought ballet would be this painful. Lilié, who not only had known for a long time before school started how painful ballet was, but had also done extensive research into the subject of how painful it was, leaned forward, "Oh, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor thing! Do you want me to kiss your pathetic feet and make it all better?"

Piké shot an angry glare. "You sounded just as pathetic as I did!" she said hotly.

"Oh, but you are much more pathetic then me!" Lilié cooed.

Piké was about to fling back a retort when a soft voice cut in.

"Well, at least you two got to go through it," the voice said sadly, "Mr. Cat made me sit the whole thing out!"

Piké turned her head to see the orange haired girl sitting next to her, wearing a white leotard and her long braid in a bun. She was slumped over with an expression of the utmost misery that made Lilié giggle.

"Well, if you had been paying attention in class it might not have happed." Piké scolded, shaking her head. That girl was hopeless sometimes. Her speech had improved from when they first met, though.

"I've had a lot on my mind lately." The orange haired girl said. It sounded less like an excuse and more like a confession.

"Oh, don't worry!" Lilié piped in, "Even if you become a colossal, useless failure, you're our colossal, useless failure!" Her reassuring words only made the girl's head sink further.

"Don't listen to her," Piké told the orange haired girl, "I'm sure Mr. Cat will include you next time."

"No, I'm useless. The only thing I can ever do is watch. I can't help Mytho… or Rue… or Fakir…" she looked away, lost in thought.

Piké tilted her head, "What are you ta…"

"Miss Piké, who are you talking to?" Madame Verrückt's stern voice interrupted.

Piké turned her head to see the ballet instructor peering down at her, one eyebrow raised in a look of bemusement.

"I w-was just talking to my friend, ma'am!" Piké said, confused.

"I see, and who would that be?"

Piké's confusion increased and she made to tell Madame Verrückt just who she had been talking to, until she realized that she didn't know the girl's name. She turned back to where the girl had been sitting only to find the spot empty with no orange haired girl to be seen.

She turned to Lilié whose smile was uncomfortably large. "Who was the girl that was there a minute ago?"

"Oh, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor, poor Piké!" Lilié happily informed, "There was no one there. You've been talking to thin air for the past several moments. It was so cute!"

Piké turned her head back to Madame Verrückt, only for a sharp pain to hit her forehead. As she grabbed her head, she looked up to see a worried look on her instructor's usually stoic face.

"Miss Piké, are you feeling alright?"

Lilié leaped to the defense of her friend. "Of course she's not alright! How could you say such a thing?"

A long silence followed, as Madame Verrückt and Piké gave Lilié the kind of look you give someone who just clamed that the entire building was made out of ham.

"Miss Lilié," Madame Verrückt began slowly, "I merely meant that I was concerned for Miss Piké's welfare."

"Yes, but you don't have to imply that she can always be alright!" Lilié accused.

Madame Verrückt made to speak but Piké sprang up, waving her arms dismissively.

"Oh, don't listen to her, ma'am." Piké sighed, "She just says things like that. Look," she gave another sigh, "It's nothing to worry about. I just had a hard time getting to sleep last night. That's all."

This did not placate the ballet instructor, evident by her face turning to a frown. "That is not all, Miss Piké. It is important that you take good care of your body. It is the best way to stay afloat in the harsh, competitive world of ballet, and it is vital for preventing accidents, besides. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Piké monotoned, sounding more bored than informed.

"Good! Now I expect you to get plenty of sleep tonight, and if I see you unable to focus in class again, I'll make you m… m… m…"

Piké's eyes widened as an image of a giant, purple cat flashed before her. Here it comes. She was going to make her m… m… m…

"Make a model of the Eiffel Tower entirely out of anchovies!" Madame Verrückt proclaimed and then promptly back flipped away; another move Piké was sure wasn't taught in ballet.

As Piké collapsed back onto the ground, she had to admit Madame Verrückt was right about one thing: she really needed some sleep.

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The library was a large two story building and, like all buildings at the Academy, it was very, very grand and very, very old. Bookcase upon bookcase flanked the main hall as beams of light streamed out of the tiny windows, making the place feel more like a lost temple in some pulp story. While the library usually had many students in it at one time, they were always split off into small groups scattered into the most secluded recesses of the building, giving one the impression that the place was always empty.

This was just how Autor liked it.

Author did not like people. He did like books. In fact, it was well known that Autor preferred books to people. Books did not pester him; they did not contradict him; and they did not bother him with annoyances like the time or the whether. They were the most agreeable company he could think of, so this is why he was currently leaning his thin frame against a bookcase, occasionally adjusting his glasses as read an old dusty tome. He did like to keep his appearances up, keeping his uniform tidy and his dark, purple heir combed, but it was mostly for his own satisfaction. If he wasn't in class or practicing in the music room, he could be found in the library, not that anyone ever tried to find him.

Well, there was one person who would trek to the library every week to meet with Autor. Odd, since the two hated each other.

"Autor…" a cold voice came up from beside him. He turned his head to see a dark haired boy, his face set humorlessly and bunch of papers clenched in his hand. Another story, no doubt.

Autor gave a smirk. "Well, Fakir, it's about time you showed up. I was worried that you were too busy playing with your little duck to remember our work." He made sure to make his voice sound extra self-important.

Fakir said nothing and just handed Autor the papers.

As Autor took the papers from his acquaintance, he began to look them over as he muttered to himself.

"OK, let's see here… once upon a time… happy littlie duck…living in a small pond… love to dance… blah… blah… blah, blah, blah…"

Autor was a fast reader. In a few moments he had finished the short story. He returned the paper to Fakir, giving him a serious look.

"Well," he began, "your grammar is fine, your spelling is good, your sentence structure is adequate, there is just one problem," at this he put his hands to his hips, "it's boring."

Fakir said nothing and continued to watch Autor rant.

"A cute, little duck lives in a pond and dances every day. The End." He practically spat the synopsis as if it was dirt. "There's no structure, no conflict, no plot! What's more, this story is just like the one you wrote last week, and the week before that, _and the week before that_!"

At that, Autor walked forward and pushed past Fakir. "Don't bother to come every week if all you're going to do is waste my time with trash."

Fakir turned around, an icy glare directed at the retreating Autor. "Don't call my stories trash."

Autor spun to face the dark haired boy.

"You know, if you spent less time writing about that pet of yours and more time taking this seriously…" his tirade was interrupted by Fakir.

"You know very well I can't write about anything except her."

"Well, you don't seem to mind much." Autor retorted, crossing his arms, "you spend most of your time with that animal."

"She is not an animal." Fakir growled before throwing his arms up in defeat. "Why do I keep coming here?"

"Because, you need me." Autor smirked, light shining off his glasses. "I'm the only one who knows of your power. The only one who remembers. The only one you would allow to remember."

Fakir continued his icy glare. "You are the only one I can trust," he paused, "but I don't have to trust you completely. Nor do I have to take your advice as lore. I will handle my powers in my own way."

Autor shook his head. "You lack ambition. If only you were a bit more like Dross-"

He was cut off when Fakir suddenly rushed forward, grabbed his collar and slammed him against the nearest bookcase, his eyes conveying a dangerous warning. "I told you, I'm not him. I don't want to be him and I will never be him!" Fakir hissed. With that he released Autor, turned and walked quickly away.

Autor sneered as he watched the retreating ballet student. Yes, he definitely preferred books over people.

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Piké watched her enemy carefully, studying it for any sing of danger. She circled around it, feeling very vulnerable but also knowing that she must not show it that she was afraid. She continued to watch and watch, but no matter what her adversary did not move. Though she was not sure what she was expecting it to do, as it was just her bed.

It was late, well pass lights-out time, and yet here she was, in her nightgown with her hair down, standing in her darkened room staring at her bed.

She was scared. Scared of what would happen if she climbed into those sheets and fell asleep. Scared of what images would appear before her if she did.

Her visions surely had been getting progressively weirder as they went on. First they were silent, then they were scary, then they happened while she was awake, then she didn't realize they were happing at all! Who knew what was in store for her next.

However, her dazed head reminded her that if she didn't get some sleep, she would be put in probation, though not before Madame Verrückt threatened her with a silly chore that started with the letter "M."

With a reluctant sigh she climbed in and pulled up the covers. After all, being accepted to the Academy had been a godsend; a childhood dream that she had never thought could come true. She was not throwing it away just because some girl couldn't just leave her dreams alone.

She lay in bed for a time, staring at her rather uninteresting ceiling. She did this for what was certainly forever and a half and she began to worry that she was far too high-strung to sleep. But fortunately, she soon felt dreary and before long she was out.

Piké drifted into the blue mist of sleep, and for a time all was peaceful. Just her in the comforting darkness with no dreams to bother he or disturb her, nothing but sleep and all of its rest giving numbness; the escape of existing, for a time, as nothing, no pain, no joy, just sweet, sweet nothing.

This did not last.

With the sound of a low growl, Piké found herself in the class room, writing down several very important notes… okay, that's what she was supposed to be doing. Really she was just making a rather bad drawing of Mr. Cat walking down the aisle with a three towed sloth. She gave a giggle only to be interrupted by that low growl.

She turned her head left to see the mystery girl sitting next to her. Well "sitting" may have not been the word, more like "slumping." No that didn't describe it very well ether. She may have to invent a whole new word. "Sclowgging." There, that's it.

Yes, "Sclowgging" was the only way to describe the state the girl was, her cheek pressed into her desk, eyes shut, tongue out and arms crossed over her head. Another growl sounded and she gave a moan. "Food."

Piké gave a huff. "Well, if you had been paying attention in class, you would not have been held during lunch. It's your own fault!"

"It's okay if you're a failure," Lilié piped in from the girl's other side, "because we love you… for your failure."

The girl gave another moan in answer. She then turned her head so that her face was flat on the desk.

Piké gave a sigh. It seemed that that girl always was getting herself into trouble. Would she never learn?

Piké tried to return to her "notes", but her eyes kept drifting to her hungry classmate. After a while, she reached down to her book bag, pulled something out and tossed it onto the desk next to her.

The orange haired girl lifted her head to look at the item, a large muffin covered in several large blue dots.

"Piké," she said in a small voice, "this is the blueberry muffin your grandmother sent you."

"Yeah, well you need it more then me," Piké said, "if you don't pay attention to the class, then Mr. Cat won't let you hear the end of it, so there's your food."

"But…" the girl whimpered in an even smaller voice, "You were so happy when you got it-"

"Just eat it!" Piké said bluntly. She then turned her head back to the front of the class, trying to ignore the girl next to her.

She did the right thing, she tried to convince herself. After all it was just her grandmother's delicious blueberry muffin, her favorite sweet acquired by kindly relatives. She would receive another one… in about three months to a year, depending on whether grandma has remembered to refill her medication or not. This girl was a friend, and it was the right thing to help her, even if she had to give up one of her most beloved treats of all time…

Piké felt a tap on her shoulder, when she took a look, she saw the girl, her smiling mouth covered in crumbs, handing Piké half a muffin.

Piké couldn't help but smile too as she took the half-muffin and began to nibble.

"Miss Piké!" came a voice from the front for the class, "Are you eating during my lecture!"

Piké quickly hid the muffin under her desk. "No, Mr. Cat."

"Because, if you are," the voice said, its volume rising, "you will have to m… m… m…"

"Nooooooo!"

Piké sprang up in her bed and franticly looked around. Her room was the same it had always been, only now bathed in the morning sun. Once she settled down, she gave a frustrated groan at the realization that her rest had been disturbed once again.

Well, she thought, this time she got plenty of sleep.

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Oswald stood triumphantly over the crumbled body of the Mad Doctor, his smock covered in tares and his face showing fear. Behind them, the broken remains of the not-snow globe lie, its cracked dome billowing smoke.

"Well, Doc?" Oswald said to the defeated scientist, "Ready to give up?"

The Mad Doctor got on his hands and knees, bringing his head low to the ground. "I am humbled, Oh Mighty King of Wasteland," he rumbled, "You are far too great and spectacular and handsome for me to have ever taken on."

At this, Oswald gave a hardy laugh to the heavens. "Oswald the Lucky Rabbit has saved the day once again! Citizens of Wasteland, you may commence with the accolades!"

Literally out of nowhere, reporters clothed in the stereotypical trench coats and fedoras surrounded Oswald. Some were taking pictures, others were scribbling who-knows-what into notepads while bombarding Oswald with random questions.

"King Oswald, do you have any comments for your many fans?"

"King Oswald, what is your consensus on being so awesome?"

"King Oswald, were do you get your ears styled?"

Oswald raised his hands, silencing the reporters. "One at a time! You may all have the chance to talk with the great Oswald." He pointed to a reporter in the front.

"King Oswald," the reporter began, "How do you feel now that you have bested the Mad Doctor… and the Blot… and cancer… and won the Winter Olympics?"

Oswald was suddenly holding a large, golden trophy shaped like his head. He saw nothing wrong in this.

""Oh, well… okay I guess…" he said while making sure the photographers got a good shot at the trophy, "It's nothing special really. The usual Tuesday."

"King Oswald, what do you contribute to your amazing greatness?" Another reporter piped up.

"Oh, eating healthy, keeping clean and giant railroad cabbages named Zorko." Oswald modestly said as he struck a pose for the cameras, the golden trophy inexplicably gone.

"King Oswald, I love you."

Oswald gave an odd look. "Thank you, thank you! But I'm already spoken for, so…"

"Oswald, I love you."

Oswald began to wave his arms wildly, his eyes shut tight in shock. "No, really, I already have a girl! She…"

"Oswald!"

He opened his eyes to see that all of the reporters had turned into lampposts, their trench coats pooling at their bases.

Oswald looked about, trying to find the source of the voice. Now that he thought of it, he knew that voice very well.

Suddenly, there was a bright light and there she was. She could have been Oswald's double excepted her ears were short and pointy, and she had a longer tail. Instead of shorts she wore a short purple dress and matching hat, topped with a daisy. Some may find a girlfriend that looked just like oneself kind of creepy but to Oswald she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Ortensia!" he shouted.

Yes, it was Ortensia, her arms outstretched, a smile on her face and riding a winged bowler hat… for some reason.

"Oswald!" she called back, and without wasting any more time, the little king hopped up onto the hat to embrace his love as the golden light shined upon them. It was like this moment could last forever.

"Oh, Ortensia," he sighed, "it's so nice that we're together."

"But we're not together, Oswald," she whispered in his ear, "we're apart!"

"What do you mean we're…?" Oswald trailed off when he noticed that he was no longer holding her. The two sweethearts were now on the opposite sides of a large gorge, Ortensia looking sad from her far perch.

"Ortensia, come back!" called out Oswald worriedly.

"I can't!" Ortensia called back.

"Why?" Oswald asked back. Ortensia seemed to be getting smaller and smaller by the minute.

"Because we're not together!" she said, already a speck in the distance.

"Ortensia!" before Oswald could stop himself he leaped off the cliff, not even coming close to the other side and began a plummet down a deep dark abyss… that lasted all of two seconds before he hit the hard floor of the dormitory loft.

As he lay in a miserable pile on the cold wood, he brought his gaze up to the bunk bed from which he had fallen, the sheets in disarray. He than turned his head in the opposite direction to the window were the morning could be seen beyond the glass.

It had been all a dream.

After stretching his arms and giving out a loud yawn, Oswald sprang to his feet as only a cartoon rabbit could do. It was a dream, no more, no less, he told himself as he jaunted to the window. Why waste this beautiful morning on such thing.

Opining the window, he stuck his head out into the chilly, electrifying air. This was no day for moping, he decided. Why, just yesterday he was on the streets in a delusional haze, convinced that Martian hotdogs were trying to steal his ears. Now he was safe and sane in a dormitory room (a drafty dormitory room, mind, but a dormitory room none the less), and had just experienced a good nights sleep, odd cliff dreams aside.

Revitalized with new meaning, he inhaled deeply the morning wind, his chest expanding like a balloon, and as he exhaled, all his worries seemed to fade away with the sun rise. Yes, this would be a day of accomplishment; a day of discovery; a day of adventure. With him well rested, nothing could stop him from finding his way home. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit will not be toppled again.

Suddenly, a flock of birds of all colors and sizes burst through the open window and engulfed Oswald in their feathered bodies, causing the rabbit to topple to the floor.

Loud chirps filled the room as the birds continued to pile on Oswald, covering him in a living blanket of feathers. Oswald thrashed his arms about, trying to shoo the birds away, then stopped, noticing something. They weren't attacking. They weren't pecking or biting or clawing. They were just settled on him, as if the king was their normal morning perch.

As Oswald was puzzling this over, he did not notice the light knocking at the door of the small loft. Nor did he hear when the knock repeated. Finally, the door opened and in walked Piké holding a small plate.

"Mr. Rabbit?" she ventured, "Are you okay in here? I heard wired noses from outside and…" she stopped upon spotting the shifting mass of birds on the floor by the window.

She climbed the small set of steps in front of the door and walk over to the green table, placing the plate down on top of it.

"Mr. Rabbit, is that you?"She asked.

Her answer was a small black arm rising out of the feathered shape and a small wining voice:

"Help."

Coming closer, she began waving her arms forward in fast motions.

"Shoo, shoo! Get away from him!" she shouted.

The harsh words were all that were needed. The mess began to ebb away as the bird fluttered out the window, leaving a very perplexed looking rabbit lying on the floor.

Piké knelt beside him. "Are you okay, Mr. Rabbit? Did they hurt you?"

Oswald sat up and brushed a feather off his arm. "No, I'm fine. They just sat there, as if they were waiting for something," he answered, "And please, call me Oswald. 'Mr. Rabbit' makes my sound like a reject from 'Alice in Wonderland.'"

As he stood, Piké walked over to the window, watching as the birds scattered in different directions.

"Just sat there?" she wondered, "Why?"

"Beats me." Oswald said, "I just opined the window and _boom!_ I'm covered in living feather dusters." He walked over to the table and gestured to the plate. "What's this?"

"Oh," Piké turned and made her way over to Oswald, "I thought you might be hungry, so I snuck up some food for you."

"Oh boy!" Oswald exclaimed as he hopped onto the table, "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse, but then Horace would never speak to me ag…"

He cut off when he got a good look at his breakfast: carrots. The plate was covered in carrots; plump, orange, moist, and not another bit of food on the dish.

"What's the matter?" Piké asked, noticing his sudden confusion.

Oswald turned, rising an eyebrow. "There's nothing here but carrots," he observed, "Don't get me wrong, I don't mind getting my daily recommended… whatever the heck is in carrots, but I was hoping for something more like eggs, bacon and a side order of quiche."

Piké stared, "But… you're a rabbit."

"Oh, here we go!" taking an aggravated chomp out of one of the carrots, he rounded to her, his hand on his hip, "That is just the kind of stereotype that keeps the rabbit folk down. You know the only job that I could hold down in the last century? All powerful king of an interdimensional theme park. What is the world coming to?" Never the less he continued to munch on the carrot.

Not sure how to respond to something like that, Piké decided to change the subject. "So, how was your night here?"

The rabbit picked up another carrot and began nibbling, apparently figuring that if it was to be his breakfast he might as well eat. "Okay, I guess." He shrugged, "Oh, I did search the room, you know just for something to do. All I was able to find was that," he pointed to an old oil lamp topped with a white lamp shade sitting on the table, "and this," he reached behind his back and pulled out a yellow, duck shaped pillow. "It looks kinda new."

Piké tilted her head. "That's odd. I'm sure I was told no one has stayed here in years." She said thoughtfully.

Oswald gave another shrug, tossing the pillow onto the bed, and then partook of another carrot.

The next few moments were silent as Oswald finished up his meal. When he was done, the rabbit king stood up strait, and looked the purple haired ballet student right in the eye.

"Okay," he announced, "If I'm to get home, I'm gonna need some leads. Tell me, uh… 'Piké' was it? Tell me have you seen anything strange or freaky recently?"

Piké gave him an odd look.

"Besides me," he added.

"Well…" Piké put a hand to her chin, trying to think. She really hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings in the past few days, being way too preoccupied with her strange dreams.

"I can't say I've seen… wait. There are two things…" she shook her head, "No, they wouldn't have anything to do with you."

Oswald leaned closer in interest. "Any lead will do."

"Well," she began, "there are two mysteries that have the entire town in a buzz, but they've been here awhile before you arrived."

Oswald made a motion with his hand for her to continue, so she did.

"The first mystery has baffled pretty mush everyone, no one can figure it out. It is known as the 'missing month.'"

Oswald raised an eyebrow. "How can you lose something like a month?"

"That's the mystery. One morning, we all just wake up and realize that we can't recall anything from the previous month. Of course, not everything was lost. Most of us at the Academy still know what we learned, and such. But for the most part everyone can't remember what happened that month."

"Everyone?" Oswald asked, "Even crazy blond girl?"

"Lilié? Yeah, she can't remember ether."

"Even you?" At this, Oswald's face contorted in shock.

"Yes, I ca… I can't…" suddenly Piké doubled over in pain. Grabbing her forehead, she staggered over to the window and clung to the sill, all the while panting heavy.

"Kid," Oswald exclaimed as he rushed over to the young girl, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Kid! Kid, what's the matter? Are you hurt!" he asked, looking her over.

After a few moments, Piké released her head, and collapsed on the floor. She was still breathing hardly, but she seemed otherwise alright.

"Kid?" For a moment, Oswald didn't get an answer, but then Piké suddenly stood and took a couple of steps forward, her eyes staring fiercely at the absolute nothing in front of her.

Oswald backed away, watching the ballet student stand in the middle of the room, apparently in a daze. After a moment, he began to slowly waddle up to her, unsure of what just happened and wary of what might happen.

"Kid?" he finally said, "You okay? What in the name of Ub's gray earth was that? Do you need anything? Aspirin? A glass of water? Psychotherapy?" There was no answer from the girl. "Maybe if I get…"

"Stand up straight!" Piké barked.

Oswald obeyed the order with out thinking, his arms immediately going to his sides, his back straight.

"Suck in you gut!"

Oswald grabbed his round little tummy with his hands and pushed it upwards making his chest expand to ridiculous size. He wobbled slightly, trying to keep balance.

"Tuck your chin in!"

Oswald once again complied. Ah, this brought back memories of his army days… Except, he was not in the army any more. And Piké was not a drill instructor. In fact, way was he doing this?

He looked up to Piké and found that she wasn't even facing him. Instead, she was addressing that nothing that so interested her. Her hands were on her hips and she wore a look of annoyance. Annoyance turned to anger as she began to growl.

"It's no laughing matter!" she snapped, moving forward and pointing an accusing finger at whatever nonexistence person had given the nonexistence laugh. "If you can't even do that, then you'll never get out of probation!"

Oswald relaxed his posture as he sidestepped in a circle around Piké, carefully eyeing this display of lunacy. He leaped back with a start when Piké suddenly fell backward into the wall below the windowsill. She lay there for only a second, however, and she was back on her feet, glaring at the nothing that seemed to aggravate her so.

"All she has to do is walk with a book on her head!" she said with continued anger.

"Who has to walk with a book on her head?" Oswald asked, leaning to the side in confusion.

"Then she'll never be a prima ballerina!"

"Who will never become a prima ballerina?" Oswald asked again, getting caught up in the argument he couldn't see.

Then Piké's expression changed to one of annoyance again. "Hey, it's your fault."

"Hey!" Oswald hopped in front of her, finally having enough, "It's not my fault she can't be a ballerina! I don't even know who we're talking about!"

"Talking about what?" Piké seemed to finally come out of her stupor, blinking several times and looking around her in confusion. "What's going on? What just…?"

Oswald regarded her, folding his arms. "It was nuts, kid. You looked like you were in pain for a moment, then you started arguing with your self."

He hopped over to the table top and, with the added height, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, kid," he said solemnly, "I've got to ask, are you going crazy? And if so, why didn't you invite me?"

Before Piké could reply, a jarringly cheerful voice came dancing through the door. "Oh, Piké, hurry up or up or you'll be late for class, though that would be sooooo cute!"

"Oh, drat. Coming, Lilié!" Piké called out as she darted for the door.

"Wait," Oswald said loudly, "What was that? And you didn't tell me what the second mystery wa…"

It was too late. The door was already in mid-sway and hurried footstep could be heard from down the hall.

Oswald looked blankly at the door as he hopped down from the table and walked over to the window. Well, that was weird, he thought. Not everyday you see a ballet student have a mental breakdown. Maybe he should…

No, no, no! This was not his world, he should not interfere. She'll be fine. He went insane all the time and he did not suffer any lasting side effects. Maybe. Well, not any that he ever noticed.

Besides, he needed to find a way home. Grilling Piké on unusual activity didn't lead him anywhere, so he will need a new source of info.

As he peered out the window and watched the crowds of chatting students making their way through the courtyard, he realized something.

What he needed was a wellspring of gossip, and school yards were infamous for their unchecked rumor mills…

Oswald grinned as he hopped up onto the windowsill then down into the bushes below.


	4. Friends in Need

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 4

As soon as Oswald laid eyes on the gray collection of buildings in the distance, he knew he had the right place.

Old, gothic, expensive, pretentious… If there was anywhere that screamed "centuries old arts academy," this was it. He could almost smell the pompousness from here. It was a sent he should know; it was the same as his favorite cologne.

As this side of the Academy was surrounded by the river, he had no choice but to wait for the waves of students entering through the wide bridge to wane to almost nothing before sprinting across said bridge through the large main building and quickly hid behind the first thing he spied, in this case a well groomed hedge.

Tentatively, the rabbit peeked from his hiding place, making sure to keep his ears down, to survey the school's expansive courtyard. A well tended lawn greeted him, crisscrossed with well polished stone pathways, and peppered with well trimmed trees and bushes. At the center of this web of wellness was a majestic fountain toped with a statue of a swan, its wings outstretched. Atop its slender head, it wore a small crown as if proclaiming that was the benevolent ruler of this learning establishment. The school buildings were planted on all sides, gray mansions of knowledge, eagerly inviting the creative young souls that swarmed into their open doors.

Oswald made a mental note to ask Piké and Lilié if their families were lorded. It felt like it cost him a fortune just breathing the air of this place.

As the black rabbit's eyes continued to sweep the area, he noticed that several students had gathered in groups beside a row of hedges, talking animatedly. Gossip! The perfect way to obtain information.

Oswald sneaked along the hedges up to where the first group stood, and carefully brought an ear up to listen.

"Hay, did you see the drama division's exhibition last week," asked one girl.

"Yeah," said a boy, "it was surreal."

"Oh, yes," giggled another girl "I thought the faculty were going to freak when that one guy came out in nothing but a loincloth…"

…And Oswald immediately decided that this conversion was not worth his time. He moved on to the next group of students.

"Did you hear that Femio got sent to probationary class again?"

"Gezz, that guy's a nuisance. He hits on every girl in school."

"And did you see his 'performance' yesterday? He was wearing just a Speedo and his body was painted like…"

Did every conversation in this place have to be about nudity? Oswald quickly shuffled to the following group of all girls.

"So, have you seen Senior Fakir yet?"

"No. But I do hope he shows up soon, though. He is soooooooo dreamy, with those green eyes and that long, dark hair and the mysterious way he carries himself and those thin muscular arms and…"

Well, they might as well be talking about someone naked, Oswald decided. He past the swooning girls over to the last pack of student in the line. A little afraid of what he might be inflicting himself to, he leaned in to listen.

"It didn't show yesterday!" one boy was saying angrily.

"It dose that sometimes," explained another boy, "it'll return after a while. So relax!"

"Bah," spat a girl, "I don't care if we never see it again. Once was all I needed. I'm still freaked out by it. I mean, a dancing duck? It's just unnatural."

Oswald's ears picked up, literally, at this. A dancing duck? He had never heard of such a thing in the real world. Maybe it was a link back to Wasteland. He needed more info.

"Oh, it's not so bad," one girl was saying, "I think it's sweet, I wonder how a duck learned how to dance like that in the first place."

"My friend says she sees a duck like that outside the ballet room window. It must be copying what it sees."

"Well, I still think it's freaky," said the first girl, "what duck just decides one day to… why does that bush have rabbit ears?"

Ooh, a bush with rabbit ears! This was even better! He had hit the jackpot with this one.

"I don't know," said the first boy, "but they don't look like real rabbit ears, just like long, black poles. Maybe it's one of the drama division's stupid stunts. Poke them, I bet they're made of wood."

Oswald leaned forward, interested in were this development was going, when he felt something jab his left ear. He grumbled under his breath, but ignored it. It was probably nothing.

"It doesn't feel like wood," one of the girls was saying, "hold on…"

The rabbit suddenly felt a hand grab his ear, and then let go. Oswald didn't let himself get distracted, though. He had to hear this one through.

"It felt weird, like it is alive, but… not," the girl said, her voice getting angry, "okay, stand back, I'm getting to the bottom of this."

Oswald held his breath. This was it. Now they would see the truth behind all this. He stood still, listening for any sound that would tell him what was happening.

Then he felt a tugging on his ears. He grabbed on to the hedge for dear life as he felt whatever was pulling on his ears lifting him up. The more he held on the stronger the tugging got, until he couldn't keep his grip and was pulled into the light. There, he was face to face with a raven haired girl, who was currently holding him by his ears as if she had just pulled him out of a hat.

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other, a look of confusion on Oswald's face, and a look of shock on the girl's. At long last Oswald spoke.

"Oh, you guys were talking about me," he gave a nervous chuckle, "Ha! That's kinda funny. Don't ya think that's funny? I think it's funny. Ha, ha, ha," he said in a voice that didn't sound very amused.

The girl didn't answer, nor did her friends, nor did any of the students who had crowded around them because of all the commotion. All stood still for several seconds, not a muscle moving, until the raven haired girl decided that now was the time to do what any young person would do when they just pulled a talking-rabbit-thing from a hedge by the ears: panic. And when one is panicked, the first thing one dose is to (apparently) throw what ever is in one's hand as hard as they can.

Oswald suddenly found himself being hurled though the air into the second story window of a nearby building, flying across a class room full of rather surprised students, crashing out an adjacent door, rolling across a hall way, tumbling down an adjacent flight of stairs (the architect really liked things adjacent, Oswald noted), and finally smack dab into a five layer wedding cake that the culinary division had spent all morning preparing.

Once the culinary students had wiped their faces off, they turned their attention to the ruins of what was once the product of their hard work, but was now just a messy hill were a cake-covered rabbit was currently struggling to stand.

"Un…" Oswald said blankly, "hello?"

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"Oh, it's so exciting," Lilié sighed, "a mysterious stranger from a distant land is hiding in our dormitory, a development that will undoubtedly lead to an adventure that will change our lives forever. Oh, what terrible sacrifices will be made? What dark secrets will be uncovered? How many lives will be lost? Oh, I can't wait!" she clasped her hands together and made the cutest face anyone has made while talking about impending doom.

"Would you keep it down?" Piké said in the loudest whisper she could manage, "Do you want to have everyone know we're hiding a… something."

They were in the changing room, having just switched out of their uniforms into their leotards, and of cores they were not the only ones there. The entire female portion of the beginner's class were milling about, most had also changed into their dancewear, and were using the little time before class started to chat. It would have been very easy for them to overhear any conversion from… say… a loud mouth crazy girl and her more sensible friend.

Lilié, being just such a loud mouth crazy girl, paid Piké's warning no heed.

"Oh, but don't you see, we're like characters from a fairytale. What strange adventures will this rabbit take us on? I bet we'll see giant monsters, dashing princes and maidens in distress!"

Piké looked back at Lilié and gave her a stern look. "Don't be such a scatterbrain," she said, "Oswald is just here until he can find a way home… wherever that is."

"But you know he is out there right now causing mischief," Lilié sang, "the tiny, magic creatures are always into mischief."

"No way," Piké insisted, "I spoke with Oswald this morning and he seemed very rational… somewhat. I'm sure he'll be smart and stay in his room."

Just then, loud screams came forth from the hall and the steady sound of running came not a second later. These sounds soon evolved into a full-blown commotion with shouts, arguments and inquiries from the various students. It all combined into one loud tone that issued from the door.

Beginners' class was just about to start. As such, it would be very unwise to be distracted by these sounds. So, of course Piké and Lilié were the first ones to poke their heads out into the hall.

"Hey!" Piké said to the nearest student, "What's going on?"

"There's some troll or fairy running around the school," the student explained, "he's been wreaking havoc in the culinary building."

Piké felt a chill down her spine. "He doesn't look like a black rabbit, does it?"

The student gave a look. "Yeah, how did…"

Piké was already down the hall by the time the last word was uttered, completely forgetting that she was not supposed to be wearing her leotard outside of the ballet building.

"Piké, wait. Come back! Class is going to start," Lilié called after her, sounding far too happy than one should when issuing a warning.

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Well, Oswald couldn't say he hadn't been in worse predicaments. There was the Blot, his sweetheart having all her paint drained out of her becoming a living statue, the self-exile, the Blot, the Mad Doctor's betrayal, the destruction of more than half of Wasteland thanks to the thinner disaster, the Blot, having to team up with his brother and heated rival, and of course… last Christmas at Horace's place. He still hadn't quiet gotten the smell of gravy out of his ears. Compared to all that, what was happening to him now seemed like a cake walk.

But then again, there were plenty of situations he'd much rather be in than the one he currently was in: running full speed down corridors trying to escape a mob of students. Not exactly the most relaxing way to spend the morning.

He wasn't sure which building he was in anymore. He had been running through door after door, building after building trying to lose his pursuers. It would be redundant to state that it wasn't working.

Oswald was as of now in a rather dark hallway lined with doors, keeping an eye out for any place to hide. In front of him, a door opined suddenly. Oswald, not really thinking, dashed in, the door closing behind him with a slam.

The mob surrounded the door. One of the students tried to open it only to find it locked, so he knocked. A stream of harsh whispers came from within, but the door did not open. He knocked harder. Finally, the door opined wide enough for a purple haired head to poke out.

"Yes?" asked Piké wearing the most unconvincing smile, "May I help you?"

The student that had issued the knock glanced back at the group behind him for an instant before opening his mouth.

"Have you seen a little rabbit monster run by here?" he asked.

"Rabbit monster!" Piké exclaimed with the most exaggerated look of shock on her face, "Rabbit monster! Why no, I can't say I've seen a rabbit monster. wellIhopeyoufindhim,bye!" she finished quickly as she began to shut the door.

"Wait!" the student pushed the door to keep it from shutting, "We saw it run into this room!"

"Oh, well I'm sure that…"

With out another word, the student pushed his way in and he and the others entered what was revealed to be the costume storage room for the drama division.

Rows and rows of coats, suits and dresses hung on rakes, creating a forest of fabric that went on for as far as any of them could see, rife with nooks for a small person-rabbit to hide.

"See? No place for him to have gone!" Piké announced, "Well, you had better go look somewhere else…"

"Wait a moment," said one girls eyeing Piké's leotard, "Why are you here?"

"Yeah," said a boy, "you look like you're in the ballet division. What are you doing in the drama building?"

A look of panic drenched Piké's face.

"Well… uh… you see…"

Suddenly, there was a rustle from a nearby rake. Piké put on a strained smile as the group of students slowly approached the moving garments. One boy reached out carefully and grabbed one of the gowns and with a swift movement, pulled it aside. Out tumbled a small figure dressed in an old coat and cap several sizes too big for it. Out of the cap dangled two long locks of pitch black hair on ether side oh his head. They almost looked like ears.

"There you are!" Piké blurted out, pushing her way through the crowd and grabbing the small figure's hand, "Where have you been! You've been a bad boy!" she turned to the group, "I'm so sorry, my little brother was visiting and he got away from me."

The "boy" looked confused for a moment then his eyes lit up in realization. He than put on a dumb smile that looked rather exaggerated and forced.

"I'm sorry, sissy," the "boy" said in a voice to childish for a child.

"Well, you better be!" Piké scolded, "Come on, leave the nice maniacs to their paranoid witch hunt."

She walked the little "kid" out the room, the group of students watching the whole thing confused.

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In an isolated section somewhere in the back of the school stood a shack, colored a dull gray and really not standing out against the surrounding building. One could almost mistake it for a utility shack.

It wasn't.

In fact, it didn't seem to have any use at all. Even stranger was that, early every morning, one could hear soft music coming from it. And sometimes the music would cut off abruptly and a male voice could be heard shouting, sometimes followed by the loud quaking of a duck.

It was on this morning that these muffled sounds could be heard from the strange little shack; first the harmonic music and then the chaotic voices going off one after the other as if they were in an argument.

After a moment, the noises stopped and the music started again, only to stop again for another round of voices. This trend continued until all sound from the shake ceased.

The door slowly opened and out stepped a dark ponytailed boy and following him, a small, yellow duck.

The boy turned and looked down at his companion and the two faced at each other for an instant before the duck suddenly began flapping its wings and soared up into the sky and over the town's border wall.

The boy looked after it for a long while until finally putting his hands in his pockets and walking away.

"Idiot," he said sadly.

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"Ha! No one can catch Oswald the Lucky Rabbit!" the little black rabbit in the blue coat and cap triumphantly said as he poised heroically atop the swan fountain statue, "Try as you might, you are no match for some one as amazing as me!" He then promptly slipped and fell in the water with a splash.

"Would you be quit!" hissed Piké as she helped him out of the water, "Do you want the entire school to see you… again."

"Ha, your pitiful school doesn't scare me," Oswald proclaimed as he shivered from the cold, "I am but a shadow, ever evasive, always at the corner of your eye but never touched," he put his fists to his hips in a defiant pose as his knees knocked, "I am the lost light of dusk, gone before you know it. I am..."

"Soaking wet," Piké finished, "why don't you find a place to dry your coat and hid there," she knelt down, her angry face in his, "like you were supposed to!"

Oswald balked.

"What! Me! Oswald, great king of Wasteland, remain inactive in a room somewhere when there's work to be done! Why… why…" he gave a great shiver that made his teeth chatter fallowed by a sneeze strong enough to knock him of his feet, "why, what an excellent idea."

As he stood, a bell sounded, its tone echoing off the old, gray buildings.

"What was that?" Oswald asked.

"Oh, that was just the bell signaling that classes are starting."

"Oh."

There was a pause. Piké watched the rabbit, as the rabbit studied Piké, waiting for something to happen. Finally, it happened: Piké suddenly broke into a run, her arms swinging wildly as she hurdled toward the lessens room and, quit probably, a very angry Madame Verrückt.

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"It seems that Ballet has become the go-to fantasy for little girls. I bet most of you have grown up with the dream of becoming prima ballerinas and living happily ever after. Well, it's not going to be that easy. Not that I'm saying that you must give up that dream, but know that underneath this dream lies a harsh truth that may destroy you if you are not carful."

Madame Verrückt stood proudly in front of the beginners' class, who were sitting together on the ground. Her hands were behind her back and she was pacing back and forth as she spoke, as if she were a general addressing her troops.

Piké, who was crouching down low and tensely peeking through the door to the lessens room, was very grateful for this. Madame Verrückt hadn't started the worm-up exercises yet. She may not have taken roll yet and as such may not have noticed that Piké was missing.

If she was lucky, she could sneak in while the ballet instructor was busy with her speech to the class.

"Only a few of you will find fame and fortune as a prima ballerina," Madame Verrückt continued, "but even these privileged few will have to contend with the fact that fame is fickle. Oh, so fickle. One moment, you are the most famous dancer in the world, touring Pairs, New York, Rome; the next moment you're flat broke and have to marry a rich businessman only for him to leave you at the alter and you chase him all over the glob and finally corner him in the Amazon where a local drought forces you to crack open his skull and fest on his…" she stopped, taking note of the shocked expression on all her students faces (except Lilié, who looked excited) and added, "Uh… the point I'm trying to make is if you want to pursue ballet, do it because you love it, not for any other reason. Oh, and Miss Piké?"

Piké froze. She had entered the group of students during the instructor's ramblings and had sat in the back hoping the no one had noticed her. Apparently, Madame Verrückt had the eyes of a cat.

"Yes?" she answered nervously.

"At lunch I wish to see you in my office. I'm I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," the instructor nodded, "now it' time for starches! Every one up."

As the class staggered to their feet, no one noticed the long eared form watching from the slightly ajar door. They also didn't notice as the door slowly closed.

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Madame Verrückt's office was a site to behold. All about Piké were knick-knacks and what-nots and whozawhatzits adorning the walls and covering the large desk at the end of the room. There where photos of a younger Verrückt in strange and mysterious locals; jungles, deserts and cities such as Cairo and Singapore. There where exotic items made out of bamboo and reed, such as flutes and masks and even a full size canoe hanging on a wall. There were dozens of little carved wooden figures scattered around the room, some squat, some tall, all strange.

Wow, this room sure did look different when Mr. Cat worked here… Piké's forehead began to sting a bit, and she gave her head a good shake. This was not the time.

Madame Verrückt sat down at her desk and gave Piké a piercing look, her fingers rapping on the arm of her char.

Finally, the women spoke, years of life evident in her voice, "Miss Piké, what is the matter?"

Piké tried her best to look like she didn't know what the instructor was talking about. "'Matter,' Madame Verrückt? Nothings the mat…"

"Please, young lady, do not give me that. You don't think I'm blind, do you. First you can't concentrate in class, then you start talking to thin air, now you're late to class all together," her eyes narrowed, "I'm very close to writing a letter to your parents. Perhaps they would like to know that you have been too distracted to concentrate in class."

"No!" Piké shouted, fearful of her parents getting involved, "No, please," She added more softly.

"Then you might as well tell me what is bothering you'" the older women said. There was silence for a long moment. Piké was not sure how to answer and her teacher continued to pierce her with a stern gaze. Finally, those hard eyes softened and Verrückt slumped back into her chair, rubbing her temples.

"Look, Miss Piké," she said tiredly, "I only wish to help you, and I can't do that if I don't know what's going on. Please, just tell me."

Piké cast her eyes down to the rug, trying to think of something to say. She couldn't continue to deny that anything was happening; she had to tell Madame Verrückt something. Of course, she didn't think telling her teacher that she was hiding a giant, talking rabbit in the girl's dorm would be a good idea. Maybe if she just told her about the dreams. After all, they were just dreams.

"Well," she started, uncertainly, "lately, I've been having these strange dreams," she paused, "they are about me, Lilié and this girl I never met before. We go out together, shop together, are in the same classes together… I know what you're thinking: 'this doesn't sound so bad,'" Verrückt said nothing and Piké gave a nervous laugh, "well, I keep having these weird dreams not only when I'm asleep, but when I'm awake as wall, and they've been making me feel very strange, like I know this girl from somewhere, and I get all sad and…"

Madame Verrückt suddenly spoke. "How close would you say you are to this girl?"

"Oh, pretty close."

"And she is friends with Miss Lilié, too."

"Yes, I think…"

"And you said she was in the beginner's ballet class?"

"Oh, yes," Piké said, smiling at this, "thought she isn't very good. She keeps getting herself put in probationary class, and Mr. Cat doesn't know what to do with her. And of course, Lilié picking on her isn't helping. Also, I think she might be daydreaming in class about Senior Mytho; he is all she ever talks about. Well, now that I think about it, she has stopped mentioning Mytho and started spending time after class with Senior Faker, so maybe-" she suddenly stopped, unable to continue. She had no clue what she was talking about.

The confusion must have been evident on her face, for Madame Verrückt took a breath, stood and walked over to the window.

"Miss Piké," she said after a while, "I don't think these are normal dreams."

Piké's eye's widened, "You don't?"

"No," Verrückt stated, "I think there's more to them."

She walked over to her desk and picked up a clipboard and showed it to Piké, "I don't know if I should be letting you see this, but this is the beginners' class role sheet."

On the clipboard were a list of names; all the names of the student in her class, including herself and Lilié. Then she noticed something. In the middle of the list was a blank space in between two names, as if a name had been erased.

"There's a name missing," Piké said.

"I know," said Madame Verrückt.

"Why?" asked Piké.

"I don't know."

"Do you think this has some to do with my dreams?"

"I don't know."

"Then, why did you show it to me?"

Verrückt gave a shrug. "I don't know." She then put the clipboard facedown on the table suddenly and gave the girl an understanding look. "Miss Piké, I understand you've been under some considerable stress, so I don't think I will take disciplinary action."

"You won't?"

"No. I'm sure whatever these dreams mean, it will become clear to you soon. In the meantime, if you to promise not to let this get in the way of your studies, I will let you off with a warning this time."

"Oh, thank you Madame Verrückt," Piké said as she got up to leave.

"Wait one moment, Miss Piké. We're not done yet."

"We're not?" Piké sat down dejectedly.

"You ran out of the changing room in your leotard, which is against the rules. These behavior doses not seem to be connected to your dreams, so I do not believe you will be escaping punishment in this case."

Piké gave a worried look. Just when she thought she was off the hook.

Suddenly, the door burst open and in entered a small "boy" wearing a large blue coat and cap.

"Sissy! Sissy! There you are sissy!" the boy spouted in what could only be described as a parody of a little boy's voice.

Verrückt watched, interested, as the tiny figure waddled over to his "sister" and grabbed her hand. "Won't you come and play with me, sissy."

Not sure how to react, Piké stuttered "Uh… n-not now… um… O-Ozzy… s-sissy is busy…"

"But I wanted to thank you fo' thaving me fwom th' mean people," the little one said, looking up at her with his dot-eyes, "thaw was awfully nice of you to go an' be late fo' me." The last part was followed by a wink.

"Miss Piké, is he the reason you left the changing room?" Madame Verrückt asked, amused at the site before her.

"Uh… yes…" Piké said, "my little brother came to visit me and caused a panic. Boys can be such scamps at this age!" She laughed half-heartedly.

Madame Verrückt's eyes stayed on the oddly dressed boy. "Very well, Miss Piké," she said after awhile, "you can go. But if you do that again, I will force you to m… m… m…"

Piké's eye's widened. Here it comes. She was going to force her to m… m… m…

"Marry a cat!" Madame Verrückt shouted.

Piké blinked. That actually sounded right for some reason.

Finishing her statement, Madame Verrückt leaped out the window, impressive stunt considering it was a three story drop.

Oswald, removing his cap, ran over to the window only to see the teacher inexplicably cart wheeling across the ground below.

"I think I like her." Oswald stated.

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Fakir, his back leaning against his usual tree, couldn't bring himself to look at the little yellow duck on the other side of the pond. Normally he'd be taking this opportunity to be studying her technique (or lack of) and making mental note of what to work on next. Not today. Today he'd rather be watching anything else.

Why did he let her talk him in to this? He had told her that he wouldn't let her perform until she was better. He had made that clear. But she wouldn't listen. Stubborn bird.

He turned his head to observe the students seated around him, all smiles and wide eyes and gapping mouths. To them she was just a strange site to gawk at. They didn't know. They didn't know why she did this for them; why she embarrassed her self every day. And they would never know.

As he scanned the crowd though, he noticed something off. He couldn't find them anywhere: the purple haired girl and the crazy blond girl. They were usually amongst the students, but today they were absent.

He gave a groan. Those two where one of the things that kept her coming out here. She wanted to see them and have them see her as more than just duck.

And they were gone.

Fakir pushed away from his tree with a sigh. She had to have noticed, and it would make her upset. And when she was upset, she got angry. And when she got angry, they argued. And he did not like it when they argued, especially after they just had an argument.

Where were those two?

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"There I was, just me and a giant bear, with no one else around for miles," Oswald said as he gave a dramatic wave of his arm, "of course I was no coward. So I very bravely ran like a frightened chicken into a nearby cave. It took me a moment to realize that I had trapped my self before I heard the growls of the monster coming up right behind me."

"Oh, my," Lilié squealed, every one of her shouts of terror rift with joy, "did you die Mr. Lucky Rabbit? Oh, I bet you died!"

"Lilié," Piké said, "how could he have died if he is sitting right there."

"He could be a ghost. Ooooh, scary," Lilié giggled.

The three of them were sitting at one of the outdoor tables at the pizza place on Church Street listening to Oswald, still in his blue coat and cap, tell stories of his adventures, a half eaten pizza between them. Lilié had insisted on buying to celebrate Piké getting herself humiliated in front of the whole class. It's something like that that only comes once a week, after all.

"So, what happened next!? What happened next!?" Lilié pleaded.

"Well," Oswald gave a sly grin as he took a bite of pizza, "let's just say that I got a bran new fur coat out of the whole mess."

"Poor bear…" Lilié sighed happily.

"Yeah, like any of that's true," Piké said good naturedly.

"It is true," said Oswald defensively, "now why don't I tell you the time I flew to Paris from across the Atlantic on a dachshund."

"Oooooh, did you die?"

Oswald gave her a pointed look, and then turned to Piké to find her looking off into the distance, her eyes sad and longful.

"Hey, kid!" Oswald shouted, snapping her out of her trance, "Crossed the Atlantic on a dachshund! Pretty neat, huh?"

"Oh, yes, pretty neat," Piké said, "sorry, just my mind wondered for a second there."

"Okay," Oswald said, taking another bit of his pizza, "well, it all started when there was this big race to fly the Atlantic in an aro-plan. I, of course, was the underdog, but I was confident that my machine could beat all the others. But right before the race, some jerk took a piece of chewing gum and… Piké are you listening!"

Piké gave a jump. She had been gazing off again. "Oh! Uh…"

The rabbit rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you don't want to here about flying Dachshunds, why don't we change the subject? What's this Dancing Duck I keep hearing about?"

Piké looked at Oswald in surprise, "Where…"

"I heard a pack of students talking about it before I was spotted. So tell me," he leaned forward, "what is it?"

"It's that other mystery I was talking about this morning," Piké said gaining her composure, "a few days after we all woke up from the missing month, me and Lilié were taking a walk through this wooded area when…"

"When suddenly, this adorable duck stumbled out of the bushes," Lilié piped in, "and it just looked up at us pathetically for a moment and then started dancing for no reason at all!"

Oswald gave a smirk. "And you thought the dachshund story was farfetched."

Piké frowned at his snark, but continued, "When we got back to school, no one believed us, but we were able to convince some others to come with us during lunch. It took some searching but eventually we found it swimming in small pound. At first it looked like it might run away, but by acting in a calm and friendly manner…"

"I tried to throw a rock at it," Lilié interrupted proudly.

The purple haired girl ignored her friend, "… We were able to coax it in to dancing. And ever since then it's appeared every day at noon to…" she stopped, "well, that's not true, sometimes it disappears for a few days at a time."

"Yeah," Oswald nodded, "that's what one of the students said. Now where do you suppose a dancing duck disappears to?"

Piké shrugged, "I don't know. To the lake, I suppose, or the river, or…"

"Another world?" Oswald finished.

"A-another world? You think-" Piké's eyes widened, "you don't think it came from where you came from, do you?"

"That or the cartoon world. Ether way it maybe my ticket outta-"

"But I thought you were from the cartoon place," Lilié asked, her face blank.

Oswald suddenly looked very hesitant, "um… well… Hay!" he slammed his fist onto the table, a forced smile spread across his lips, "what are we just sitting around here for?" he sprang up from his seat, "Let's go see this thing."

"Just one problem," Piké said as she pouted to the street, which currently had a swarm of students heading for the school and chatting amongst themselves.

"Wow that was great."

"I don't believe it. It really was dancing."

"Wait till I tell my sisters."

The voices died down as the crowed moved on. Oswald stood their, watching them go.

"Or," he said weakly, "we can go tomorrow."

"If it's there tomorrow." Lilié added happily.

"If it's there," the rabbit repeated numbly.

Piké gave an apologetic look as she finish the last of her pizza, "I'm sorry Oswald. Me and Lilié usually go to the park to watch, but with all that's been going on, I must have forgotten."

"And I must have conveniently forgotten, too," Lilié chirped.

"Of course you did," said Oswald, massaging his temples.

Piké looked at the school building in the distance, "Oswald, do you really believe that the duck is from your home?"

"Well, where else can you find something like that? Not like there's a bunch of animals in your ballet class."

Piké closed her eyes and giggled, but when she opened them, she was suddenly in the school court yard. This alone didn't surprise her (she was getting used to these wired dreams). What really surprised her was the fact that she was surrounded by animals; goat, sheep, armadillos, hippos, rhinos, and so on. She made to give a shout but, of course, the dream wouldn't let her.

Gathering her senses, Piké noticed something odd about this group of random animals. Okay, something odd other than the fact that they were a group of random animals.

All of these creatures wore the Academy uniforms. Some wore the boy uniforms, some wore the girl uniform (indeed, this was the only way she could tell witch were male or female) but all of them wore a uniform. Even the group of birds drinking at the fountain wore tiny uniforms.

Before Piké could think some more, her musings were interrupted by a familiar voice that she had never heard before.

"Miss Piké, are you quite all right?"

She turned and there, standing on his hind legs was the giant cat she had constantly been seeing in these dreams, and it was coming toward her.

Piké tried to step back but couldn't, and could only stand as the cat came closer.

The cat looked at her with slanted eyes, "Miss Piké, this better not be an excuse to skip class or I will force you to m… m… m…"

"Wait!"

In came running the orange haired girl, passing by a group of pygmy marmosets. "It's okay Mr. Cat she's just under the weather. She'll be in class, honest."

Mr. Cat gave a stern look then nodded and was quickly on his way.

Piké looked at the girl, not sure what to say, but she said it anyway.

"Thank you."

The girl gave a smile, "That's okay. Friends help each other no matter what."

Suddenly, Piké felt something smack into her cheek and the next moment she was sitting back at the at the pizza parlor rubbing her sore face.

She looked over to her friends sitting across the table. She studied Lilié, who was rubbing her hand and smiling smugly, and then turned to Oswald, who was pointing franticly at Lilié. The culprit was obvious.

"Lilié!"

"Oh, but you looked so cute," Lilié squealed in a squeakily fashion, "that I just had to snap you out of it. And if it makes you feel better, you look adorable with a swollen cheek."

Piké looked back at Oswald who was watching her worriedly while picking at the last bit of his crust.

The chiming of bells signaled the end of lunch, so the two students got up from there seats, politely said there goodbyes to Oswald, and frantically ran down the street.

They didn't notice that their departure had been observed by a dark haired boy in an academy uniform from a nearby corner.

And none of them noticed the old boot lying on its side in the street.


	5. Nothing

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 5

Piké and Lilié pushed there way through the crowed hallway bumping and stumbling past the other teenagers also bumbling and stumbling to their next class. They had survived the afternoon ballet practice, so now it was time for academic lessons, which were held in a different building. After all, even if the students of the ballet division where here primarily to study the fine art that is classical dance, they couldn't skimp on the other areas of education, such as math, history and literature. But it must be mentioned that even then the subjects tended to skew toward ballet and classical music. For example, history was usually focused on the likes of Chopin, Mozart and Tchaikovsky, and today in literature they were to study Tchaikovsky's masterpiece, Swan Lake. Piké had been looking forward to this for a while now and was quite glad for the distraction.

That last dream had been the weirdest yet. Animals in student uniforms? Yeah, she was starting to wonder if she was losing her mind. As she weaved her way around preoccupied students, she couldn't help but think that if she just put her mind to other things, then maybe this dream business would just go away...

"Hay," came the angry reply as Piké, for the brief instant she had been lost in her thoughts, bumped right into someone, causing them both to stumble back.

"I'm sorry," she nervously laughed, giving a slight bow in apology, "I've got so mush on my mind and..." she stopped when she lifted her head and got a good look at the person she unintentionally rammed.

It was an anteater. Not any anteater, but a giant, bipedal anteater wearing the gray skirt and white blouse of the Academy uniform. It looked good on the anteater. The anteater itself looked hideous and terrifying, but the uniform looked good.

The anteater waved its huge clawed hand angrily as its long tongue wiggled in and out of it's equally long snout, somehow forming words. Its voice was feminine, a complete contrast to its beastly appearance.

"Well, you better be," it said irately, "I forgot my books and the last thing I need is you holding me up."

Piké stared, unable to say a word. What do you say to a six foot anteater?

The perplexed student turned to Lilié, who had been watching like a happy puppy in a shop window, to see if she also saw this... thing too. Sadly, she did not seem to, as she just smiled and waved to her friend.

Piké returned her attention to the anteater... only to find that there was no anteater to turn her attention to. Instead it had been replaced by a very angry -and very human- brunette student.

The brunette gave a huff. "What are you gawking at? I don't need this, I'm late as it is!" With that she pushed past Piké and Lilié, grumbling softly.

Piké recognized that girl. She was in the ballet division and had recently been accepted into the Special Class, which only allowed five of the best dancers.

First a girl she never met before who was apparently her best friend, then all kind's of animals in school uniforms, now a giant talking anteater and on the top of these stupid dreams she had to babysit a talking, overzealous rabbit...

Yeah, that proved it. She was going crazy.

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Madame Verrückt stood at the head of the old, drafty classroom, facing the crowd of students all settled at their desks. The ballet instructor, now out of her leotard and in a modest gray dress, was in the middle of discussing Swan Lake; its plot; its characters; its impact on ballet as an art form; and its mark on society as a whole. The students all held differing expressions, but it was easy to tell from a glance that they fell in any of three categories: interested, non-interested, and about ready to throw herself out a window. Piké was currently the only one in that last category and that did not go unnoticed by Lilié.

Oh, poor Piké. She was so cute the way she fidgeted in her chair, glancing about as if something was after her poor defenseless soul. Lilié just wanted to go over there and comfort her and tell her that it will be okay; she would always be so pathetically adorable to her.

In fact, Lilié had been really excited recently as a whole, with a lot of really fun things happing around her, what with the strange and mysterious Oswald barging into their lives and Piké acting more and more paranoid and thus more and more cute. All she need was a dark and horrible secret to be revealed and completely shatter all that she knew and held dear and her day would be complete!

The blond haired girl let a giggle escape her. The noise caused Madame Verrückt to pause, but just for an instant, before she continued her description of the beautiful heroine's bittersweet sacrifice at the end of the ballet.

Normally, Lilié would be enraptured by such a wonderful tragedy. Indeed, she had been waiting to study Swan Lake ever since she started going to this school. This was the kind of ballet she wanted to perform. Tragedy. Hard tragedy.

Yes, she should be paying Madame Verrückt a lot of attention, but how could she? After all, who needed to listen to fairy tails when her life had just become a fairy tale? A mystical being from another would. An angsty heroine with a dark secret. It was all coming together.

No sooner then she had finished her inner monologue then the soft chimes of the school clock tower sounded, signaling the end of class.

"Remember class," Madame Verrückt stoically informed her students "I'm expecting a five page assay due next week on Swan Lake. And it better not be on how 'cute and adorable' it is like a certain report I received on Giselle." She was looking straight at Lilié when she said that last part.

Lilié gave only a happy grin in reply and began pack her book bag. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Piké haphazardly tossing items into her bag and barreling her way to the door.

Lilié hummed a happy tune as she slung her bag over her shoulder and ran after her friend. She was stopped by a gruff voice. "Excuse me..."

Lilié turned and there, walking up behind her was the most hansom guy in the whole school.

"Excuse me, miss... Lilié, was it?" Fakir asked, his face unreadable, "I wanted to inquire..."

He was interrupted by a sudden squeal coming from the blond girl before him. She brought her fists to her chin in a girlish pose and began to giggle.

"Oh, you want to inquire something of me. The wonderful Fakir wants to inquire something of me. Could it be... love!"

Fakir's unreadable face became readable with shock. "Um, no, I..."

"Yes, it must be love. A boy and a girl meet, they speak a few words and before you know it..."

"But... b-but," Fakir stammered, but he was stopped short when Lilié leaned forward, her face coming close to his. For the briefest moment, they stared into each others eyes, her green into his brown. Fakir blushed when she gave him a small smile... fallowed by a smack across the cheek.

Fakir stumbled back, his expression going from confusion to anger. However, he swiftly gained his composer, standing straight and wiping any emotion from his face. "What was that?"

"When a boy and girl fall in love, they can't just act like they're in love. That would be just boring," Lilié explained, "they have to act like they hate each other. They argue and insult each other but only through terrible hardships and tragic circumstances do they realize their love for each other and live happily ever-after." She gave a dreamy sigh.

Fakir could only look at her, his eyes wide in disbelief and confusion.

"You're joking, right?" he muttered.

"No, of course not," Lilié giggled, "don't be silly. Now hold still," she grabbed the back of a nearby chair, lifting it above her head, "this may give you a headache."

"Wait!" Fakir yelled before the delicate girl could swing the heavy chair. "I just wanted to talk about earlier today at the pond."

Lilié lowered her weapon and her constant smile disappeared for a brief moment. "The pond?"

"You and you're friend are usually the first at the duck pond at lunch," he explained, "so when you did not show up, I was a little worried."

"You were worried about me? Ah, how sweet," Lilié said with a smile as she raised her chair...

"And your friend," Fakir said quickly, "you and... uh,"

"Piké?" Lilié asked.

"Yes, you and Piké. Both of you. In fact, mostly her," the senor student said fast and wearily.

The girl's smile faltered again. Her eyes focused on Fakir for a long moment barring the look of being in deep thought. She did not lower her chair during all of this, and Fakir made to ask her something before she finally gave off another smile.

"Oh, so is that how it is," she giggled sinisterly in a non-sinister way, "lucky girl." She finally lowered the heavy chair to the ground and gave the boy a wink, "This is so lovely. You two would make a good couple."

Fakir's brow creased in annoyance. "Look, I don't know what you're going on about. I just wish to know what was happening at lunch. Afterwards, I thought I saw the two of you at the pizza place conversing with as small boy in an oversized coat."

Lilié closed her eyes and gave another giggle. How she wished that she could regale her fellow student with marvelous tale of the rabbit that they were hiding in the girls dormitory, but Piké had made her promise not to tell anyone, especially not the first person to ask why they won't at the duck pond earlier that day. Oh, well, lying was more fun anyway.

"That was Piké's little brother, visiting from out of town," Lilié said, her eyes still closed and her smile still wide, "we were so distracted with watching over him that we had forgotten all about the dancing duck."

"And you will be present tomorrow?" Fakir asked, rising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes" Lilié answered, "in fact, little Oswald wants very much to see the dancing duck for himself, adorable little thing. So we will definitely be there tomorrow."

Fakir grinned and nodded. "Good, that is all I wished to know. Have a good day, Miss Lilié," he said. He then gave a respectful bow and walked away... a little faster than most usually do.

Lilié waved after the boy, "Good day, lover boy!"

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"Okay, tell me why we're here, again?" Oswald asked as he lay lazily on the oaken desk, his hands behind his head and looking far to bored then what was healthy.

Piké gave an annoyed grown. "I'm trying to work on my paper on Swan Lake." She then went back to work on her paper that she was currently hunched over.

"Okay, but why did you drag me here, too?" the animated rodent said dryly as he staring at the ceiling.

"So I can keep an eye on you," Piké said as she briefly looked up from her work, "after this morning, I'm sticking with you whenever I can. So get used to it, 'little brother.'"

Oswald gave a huff and pulled his cap over his eyes.

"Oooohh, why am I here?" Lilié sang as she raised her hand as if she were still in class.

Piké did not look up this time, "Other than having the same assignment as me, I don't know why you're here. Punishment for something I did in a past life, I suppose."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Lilié cheered.

Piké did not dignify her with a reply. Instead, she grabbed the book she had picked out for research and flipped through it as a cover, glancing about the room too make sure no one had noticed them. The old library looked as empty as usual. The three were currently at one of the many rows of desks that lined the great hall. The desks them selves were the kind that sloped up so one can read their books better. Each of them sat at one: Piké in the middle, the only one doing any work; with Lilié sitting on her left, giggling about something; and to right sat a bored looking Oswald sitting on his reclined desk as if it were a reclined chair, still in his blue coat.

"Well, can we do something more exciting?" Oswald said offhandedly, "How about we break into song? Who wants to break into song?"

"I do!" Lilié cheered.

"No!" Piké hissed, "This is a library, which means no noise. That includes braking into song!"

Oswald glanced over to her. "We can just sing a very quiet song."

"We could sing in a whisper", Lilié suggested before braking out in a very soft "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt..."

"No!" said Piké, trying to yell in the most quiet way possible, "especially not you," she turned to Lilié, "we have an assignment, remember? I'd appreciate a little assistance."

"Okay!" Lilié told her friend reassuredly, "I will help as quietly as I can."

With that, the blond haired girl removed a book off the small pile underneath the desk, opened it, and began to read... then burst into laughter which echoed off the walls causing a few heads to peek from behind the bookshelves.

"Lilié!" came the low but angry snap from Piké.

"I'm so sorry," Lilié giggled, "but this is my favorite part of Swan Lake and I can't help but laugh. It just puts a smile on my face!"

"Is it that funny?" Oswald asked, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of something to chase away the doldrums.

"Oh, yes," Lilié said, "very funny."

Oswald shifted in his desk. "How funny are we talkin'?"

Lilié flashed one of her far-too-cheery smiles. "Hilarious!"

The little black rabbit pushed himself off from the slanted desk and onto the chair, sitting down and kicking his legs in anticipation. "Well let's hear it."

"Well," Lilié began, "an evil wizard has cast a spell on this group of girls to turn them into swans during the day, but a prince falls in love with the queen of the swans," she stifles a giggle, "But the wizard tricks the prince into declaring his love to someone else," another giggle, "causing the queen to jump off a large cliff and kill herself, the prince following her soon after," she couldn't hold it, any more and burst into a fit of laughter.

Oswald stared, eyes wide and very much unamused. He looked up at Piké. "Is she always like this?"

Piké's forehead hit the table. "Yes", was her only answer.

Lilié's laughter died down and she presented the rabbit king with a look of inquiry. "Why Mr. Lucky Rabbit, don't you like my story?"

"No!" Oswald shot back, "In fact, I say you made it up!"

At this, Piké lifted her head. "But Mr. Lucky Rabbit, Swan Lake is one of the most famous ballets ever."

"It's a fairytale without a happy ending," Oswald insisted, "every one knows that fairytales have happy endings."

Oswald was then confused to hear laughs come from not just Lilié, but Piké as well.

"Oswald," Piké said in the tone of someone informing a friend that the sky was not orange, "there are plenty of fairytales with sad endings, like the stories written by Hans Christian Andersen: you know: 'The Tin Solder', 'The Little Mach Girl', 'The Little Mermaid...'"

"'The Little Mermaid!'" Oswald balked, "'The Little Mermaid' had a sad ending? What, did she turn into seafoam or something?" He laughed loudly at the absurdity of it all.

Piké could only gave a nervous smile. "W-well, there's also the work of Drosselmeyer. His fairytales always end tragically."

Lilié gave a happy little clap, "He's my favorite author! His books are always so sweet, like 'The Three Little Stages' were the oldest stage tries to save his brothers from a witch but is turned to stone, or 'The Princess and the Giant', where our heroine tries to save her love, but is backed into a pie instead, or 'The Aardvark and the Leopard that Killed Everyone' were-"

"Okay, okay," Oswald interrupted, "so you're really saying that this guy wrote fairytales without the 'happily ever after?'"

"Yeah, pretty much..." Piké mused "Wait, there was one story of his that didn't end sadly..."

Oswald's face brightened, "Really?"

"But that was because he never finished it,"

"Oh..." the rabbit sank in his chair, his ears hanging low.

"And what a tragedy that was," Lilié said, "It was shaping up to be beautifully heartbreaking. A hansom prince vows to love every one in his kingdom but an evil raven corrupts their love for him, so prince and raven prepare for an epic battle to the death!" she gave a pout, "And then it ends, just as it was getting good."

Oswald raised an eyebrow. "Well, it didn't stop him from publishing it, apparently."

"He didn't have a choice," Piké said, "he died while writing it and his publisher released it as his 'final masterpiece,' or something."

"It _is_ a masterpiece," Lilié insisted, "a shining example of literature! Every part is brilliant, especially the part with the dancing birds of death..."

"Hay, could you keep it down!"

All three turned in their seats to follow the voice to the desks behind them. Two male students were sitting behind them. The one on the right had long, dark hair and a blank, almost annoyed expression on his long face. The one on the right had shorter hair, a thick pair of glasses and was half risen from his chair in anger. He also appeared to be the one to have spoken.

"This is a library, for heaven's sake," the glasses-boy continued, "if you want to squabble like hens, you can take it out side!"

Oswald leaped up onto his desk defiantly. "Hay, why don't you mind you're own bis-"

"We're so sorry!" Piké shouted nervously as she leaped up from her seat, "We will be quiet. In fact, me and Ozzi where just going to find a book we need. Come on, Ozzi!" With that she grabbed Oswald's hand and pulled him off his desk with a yelp. She then proceeded to drag him to the farther end of the hall amongst the ancient book shelves.

The glasses-boy watched them leave with a stern eye, then turned to Lilié, who was gazing at him with a adorable little smile.

"What?" he asked rudely.

Lilié blushed and directed her gaze to the floor, and said in a tiny whisper, "You're cute when you're angry."

This caught the boy with the glasses off guard and he too began to blush.

The two stood for a moment, just one moment. It felt longer though. Indeed it felt like time had stopped just for those two. The boy removed his glasses revealing his large brown eyes. The girl finally looked up and gave a nerves giggle. As they searched each others eyes, a peace encompassed the scene, and nothing else in the world mattered.

Then Lilié darted forward and jabbed the boy in the gut. As he doubled over, she simply gave a girlish giggle and danced away in the cutest way possible.

The befuddled boy turned to his companion, "What the h-"

"Don't ask", the other student answered as he massaged his temples.

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Oswald and Piké had taken refuge behind several bookcases and had witnessed Lilié's attempt at flirtation. Their reaction was as to be expected.

"That friend of yours is nuts!" Oswald exclaimed, wrinkling his nose.

Piké did not answer, but instead turned on the rabbit, her face vary serious. "Are you crazy? Do you know who that was?"

"As a cartoon rabbit that just got to this world a few days ago, I'd say: no. No, I do not know who that was," Oswald said frankly.

"That was Senior Fakir, the most cutest guy in school," the girl stated.

The rabbit raised an eyebrow, "What? The guy in the glasses?"

"What? No!" Piké said, taken aback, "That was Senior Autor. No one likes him much. Fakir is the one next to him," she gestured to Autor's companion, who had returned to writing.

Autor had also sat back down and was watching Fakir with interest.

"Him, huh?" Oswald asked. He had to admit, the guy had the "bad boy" look down, what with the dark expression and no nonsense attitude. Teenage girls tended to fall for that sort of thing. "Nice, I guess."

"You guess?" Piké gasped, waving her arms, "Fakir is only the greatest boy in the school. He is smart, handsome, and is the best male dancer in ballet class."

Oswald gave a snort. "He's a ballet dancer? Well, I bet he looks manly in a par of tights," he finished with a nasty snicker.

Piké face soured. "Go ahead, but the way he moves is so graceful when he dances, so light when he touches the ground. Ever move he makes is soft and gentle, every step one of tender love." she gave a sigh and gazed over at the object of affection, who was scowling over the paper he was scribbling on.

A knowing smile crept upon Oswald face.

"It sound's like someone has a crush." The rabbit teased.

"What!" Piké's glazed eyes suddenly shot down to Oswald, "N-no! Why would you think something like that?"

"Well, for one thing, you're drooling."

Piké's hand went to her chin and felt the small line of drool. She blushed.

"O-oh, that. Well I... uh... I'm hungry! Almost dinner time and all..."

"Sure you are, Kid," Oswald said with a laugh, "Besides, hansom fella like that? Bet he has a new girl every week..."

"Actually, he isn't seeing anyone-" the girl said before she could stop her self, "B-but he doesn't want a girlfriend!" she quickly added, "He's already turned down several girls. In fact, the only person he talks with is Autor and they don't seem to like each other much."

Oswald wasn't looking at her any more. He had turned from her and was now studying the dark haired student out in the middle of the grand hall. He was in a hushed but passionate argument with Autor. The two quietly raged back and forth for a bit before Autor bolted from his seat and stormed out, leaving an equally irritated Faker to continue his writing in disgust.

"So he has no friends other than four-eyes, huh," he said, "if he's so ant-social, then why is he so popular?"

"Why?" Piké squeaked, "because he's so tall and dark and, uh... cute. And he's the best dancer in class and he's so silent and mysteries and... and..." she trailed off when she realized Oswald was regarding her with a skeptical look.

"Listen, Kid," the rabbit king said with a shake of his head, "someone like that can only break you're heart. Take it from someone who knows."

Piké looked down dejectedly. "But..."

"I think you're perfect for him!"

Piké leaped in shock from the sudden but familiar shout and spun around to find Lilié standing right behind her.

"Where did you come from?"

"I don't know," Lilié said with a smile, "my parents won't tell me."

"I'm not surprised," Oswald said, crossing his arms.

Lilié smiled even wider and said to Piké, "I wouldn't listen to grumpy Mr. Lucky Rabbit, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Oswald made a squeak in protest, but Lilié continued, "I was just talking with Senior Fakir at the end of class."

Piké eyes lit up, "You did?"

"Yes," Lilié said with a nod, "get this, he came up to me and asked why we were not at the duck pond at lunch. He made it clear that he was asking about you and not me."

"Again, I'm not surprised," Oswald said.

"H-he was asking about me?" Piké hands came up to her mouth and she stared at Lilié in disbelief.

"Oh, yes," the blond girl said happily, "he seemed very worried, and wanted to make sure we would be attending tomorrow. Oh, how romantic!"

Oswald gave a snort, "You would find a funeral romantic. Seriously, you don't expect us to believe that..." He stopped as he turned to find Piké's back to him; she was looking out into the hall at the student all by himself. All the anger had disappeared from his face replaced by a look of loneliness.

He seemed as lost as he wrote, his green eyes darting back and fort held the look of someone who had lost something dear to him. She wanted to go over and ask what it was, to help him.

She took a step forward.

"Yess, go and confess you're love, Piké," Lilié cheered, "You can do it,"

At that moment, Piké realized what she was doing and gave a squeak as reversed direction, ducking behind Lilié.

"Th-that's a little s-sudden, don't you think," she stammered "he's turned down every girl that asked him out. Why do you think I'll be any different?"

"But he asked of you," Lilié insisted cheerily, "so that must mean he loves you... I think, and you can't deny true love. Wherever it blossoms, you must pick it. Wherever it flutters, you must chase it. Wherever it dances, you must dance with it."

"But..."

"Now, now. Don't be like that. Go and find your love!" Lilié sang and before Oswald could stop her, she grabbed Piké by an arm and a leg and swung the girl around twice before tossing into the hall.

Piké landed straight on the chairs in front of Fakir's desk, gaining his attention."What do you think you're doing?" he said.

Piké brushed away the splintered wood and stood ignoring the pain in her side. She glanced about for a moment before finally gathering the courage to speak.

"W-well... I... um..." she turned her head her to see her still unfinished report sitting on the desk behind her, "I wanted to ask for your help with the report."

Fakir just looked blankly, "Did you really have to smash some perfectly good chairs to ask that?"

"So you'll help?" Piké said brightly.

"No!" came the boy's harsh answer, "I've got more important things to do than help some girl with her homework." With that he returned to his writing.

Piké looked upset. "Aren't you working on the report right now? So why can't we work on it together?"

"I'm not working on the report," he snapped without looking up, "I finished that hours ago. Now go away."

But going away was the farthest thing from Piké's mind. Her disappointment at Fakir's harsh tone had been replaced by curiosity.

"What are you writing, then?"

"Some of us like writing, thank you. Now if you cou..." he trailed off when he looked up again to find that the purple haired girl had gone. Satisfied, he continued his work, only to be interrupted.

"Are you writing a story about the dancing duck?" Fakir craned his head around behind him to see Piké standing there, peeping over his shoulder.

"It is! I didn't think you were writing stories when you come here. It's very nic- hay!" she finished as he snatched his papers and stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

"I suggest you mind your own business," he spat as he got up.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Piké said alarmedly, "I didn't mean to intrude. I-"

But Fakir had already stormed off leaving a very shocked Piké standing there.

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"He wasn't your type anyway. The two of you wouldn't agree on anything and your hair colors would clash," Oswald was saying as the three made their way back to the girl's dormitories. The sun was low in the sky behind the buildings, making the shadows long. Each street they walked down seemed more like a dark corridor with a twilight ceiling.

Piké dragged along slowly, her head down and her arms limp, with Oswald walking beside her and Lilié far behind, giggling.

"Yes, don't be sad, Piké," the blond haired girl said, "I thought the whole thing was just precious, especially the part where you just stood there for ten minuets with your mouth open, heart broken and on the verge of crying-"

Oswald spun around to face the offending student.

"Not helping!" he shouted before turning back to Piké, "Look, Kid, there are plenty of cats in the litter. You'll find someone else."

"But..." Piké said as she lifted her head, "That was Senior Faker, the most popular guy in school, and he just snubbed me..."

"And by what you said, you weren't the first."

"She's fifty-nine by my count," Lilié helpfully chirped.

"And you won't be the last. If he wants to spend the rest of his life alone, then let him! You don't need him!"

Piké looked up at the road ahead and gave a small smile, "No, I suppose not."

"There, feeling better already," Oswald said, "I mean, what kind of future is in store for this kid? How many male ballet dancers are there anyway?"

"Quite a few."

"Quiet, crazy blond girl!"

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"And that is why I believe the moon to be made out of pumpkin brittle instead of cheese. You can quote me on that," Oswald gloated as they came to Piké's door. The sun had now set completely and night was now falling, making the dull gray hall into a creepy, shadowed corridor, with only the dim nightlight from the window at the end to provide any light. Not that the trio had noticed this, being too busy laughing and all.

"Sure, Oswald," Piké sarcastically giggled, "I'm sure that is scientifically sound."

"Hay, no scientist would argue that it isn't."

"Yeah," Lilié said, "they would be too confused argue."

"Exactly!" Oswald said.

Piké began a giggle but it was interrupted by a yawn.

"Well, good night, you two," sighed as she opined her door, "we can talk more crazy tomorrow."

"We'll be waiting!" Oswald and Lilié said in unison as they filed off to their respective rooms.

Piké closed the door behind her as she entered her room and began to wearily change into her nightgown. She was too tired to think, too tired to worry about all the things that had happened today: about rabbits or mystery girls or anteaters or boys or anything. She wasn't even afraid of having another dream. Her asylum of a mind could throw anything it wanted at her. She didn't care any more.

Once she was in her nightgown and her hair was down, she slid into her blankets and let her mind drift off into nothing, not afraid of what would come.

Piké was in the practice room and the orange haired mystery girl was trying (and failing) to balance several books on her head as Piké and Lilié looked on; Piké concerned, Lilié not so much. Funny, why is the orange haired girl doing that? That's right, she was in probation. Mr. Cat put her there after the… wait, who was Mr. Cat? Oh, yeah, he was the ballet instructor. He was always irritated with the mystery girl and often threatened to have her m… wait, how did she know all this?

The scene changed; they still in the practice room but the orange haired girl was at the barre, a large smile on her face as she stretched her leg in the air. When Piké and Lilié had walked in, they were expecting her to be gloomy and depressed, as she was still in the probationary class, only for the oddly happy girl to invite them to join her. The three girls spent the next hour performing ballet maneuvers together, having fun. Yeah, that was great.

The scene changed again, and now Piké was sitting in a restaurant, across the table from her and Lilié was the mystery girl, her head down on the tablecloth as she sobbed softly. What had happened? Oh, poor thing. It must have been Senior Mytho, the boy she had a crush on. But everyone knew he was already dating Rue.

Another change, and now Piké, Lilié and the girl were happily eating at the pizza parlor, chatting and goofing around. Then suddenly, they were at the park, walking in the afternoon sun. Then they were in the room they put Oswald in, apparently having some sort of party. Then they were in the lessens room. Then the shopping district. Then the lessens room again. Then another place. Then another. Then another.

It was like Piké was dreaming a million dreams at once, all of them involving the orange haired girl. She saw them walking together, talking together, learning together… it was hard to keep track.

And it just kept going and going and going. She couldn't keep up, all the visions were beginning to blend together so that they were shopping in the dormitory, having a picnic in the lessens room, and dancing in the middle of the street. Piké was starting to get ill. This had to stop! Had to stop… had to…

Piké awoke in her room, the morning sun strumming upon her through the parted curtains of her window. She bought her hand to the back of her head as she tried to organize herself.

That was the worst dream yet, she thought. This time she wasn't sure if it was one dream or a thousand. Why was she having these dreams? What could they possibly mean?

Then, she caught something out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head to see. There she was, the orange hired girl, fast asleep and her back propped up against the side of the bed. She was in the strange yellow/off white outfit from the day before.

Before Piké could say anything, the door opined and in walked Lilié with a tray of drinks and brad rolls, probably out of pity rather than any sense of kindness. "Good morning, princesses!" she greeted, steam drifting from the hot drinks.

Piké sat up. "Hay, what happened?"

"Oh, you don't remember?" Lilié said, "Duck dragged you home late last night and put you into bed."

"Huh…" Piké turned to the mystery girl to see her snoring loudly.

"Piké, thank goodness." The girl muttered in her sleep.

Piké was fascinated. She crawled over to the girl to get a good look at her. As she stared at her, only one thing came to her mind and before she could stop herself, she had opened her mouth and asked softly, "Who are you?"

Then the mystery girl's eyes sprang open.

"Why, I'm nothing of course." Came her cold answer, so unlike the kind girl she had seen so far. "I am just a figment of your imagination. Just a strange dream and nothing more."

She stood and for some reason, the tiny preteen seemed to be much more intimidating than she was before. She walked forward, with a nasty grin that was out of place on her cut face.

"Why should you concern your self with me? You shouldn't worry about nothing."

Piké suddenly found that she was no longer sitting in bed, but standing in a strange place that looked a lot like the inner workings of a clock. All about her were gears, big and small, going off into the darkness, clicking and whirling. Glancing down she saw that she was even standing on the largest gear that she had ever seen. She stepped back in confusion.

This only made the orange haired girl advance.

"What's the matter? You don't think I'm real, do you? You don't think that I have thoughts; that I have dreams, do you? Dreams that were crushed; dreams that were shattered; dreams that will never be fulfilled!"As the girl came closer, Piké continued to back off, seriously scared of someone who, up till now, didn't seem like she would hurt Lilié, much less a decent person.

Suddenly, she lost her footing and she flapped her arms wildly in a desperate attempt to regain balance. She turned to look behind her and saw that she had reached the edge of one of the teeth of the giant gear. Looking down, she could see nothing but blackness. She retuned her attention to the orange haired girl, only to find her grinning face only centimeters from her own. This startled Piké so much, she had to again keep herself balanced.

"Well, you're wrong. I am nothing. Nothing but a dream." But then she came in even closer, and Piké could see that the girl's blue eyes were now a deep crimson. The girl then gave a very low whisper, "Or am I?"

And in a swift moment, the orange haired girl shoved Piké off the gear, tumbling into the darkness. Around her, gears and cogs zipped past her as she fell, and then, out of the black nothing that surrounded her she heard it; the thousand voices chanting "nothing", but this time they were joined by a deep, bellowing voice, "Now, my littlie pawn, tell me a story. The greatest tragedy of all time!"

"Nothing… nothing… nothing…duck... duck... Duck... Duck... Duck..."

The chanting voices were the last thing she knew as she descended into the void… only for her to spring up in her bed, breathing heavily. Covering her face from the sunlight, she whipped her head to the side of the bed to find… nothing.

"I remember!" Piké exclaimed to the empty room, "I remember you Duck. I remember everything!"


	6. Memories from a Missing Month

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 6

Oswald looked wearily at the plate of carrots in front of him, even bigger then the one from the day before, and turned to the blond haired girl watching him eagerly.

"Well, Mister Lucky Rabbit? How do you like your breakfast?" she asked, "I made sure to find something that I knew bunnies like without a doubt!"

The tiny king could only shake his head, snatch one of the offending root-vegetables, and bit a huge chunk off of it.

"I love it," he said sarcastically, "just how I want to start a day: enforcing stupid stereotypes."

"Why, me too!" Lilié cheered.

Just then the door to the loft burst open and up the small flight of steps ran Piké, her hair a mess and a wild look in her eyes.

"Duck!" she cried.

And as so as they did! Both Oswald and Lilié ducked under the table, looking about wildly.

"Duck, that's her name," the purple haired girl continued, apparently not noticing her friends actions, "how could I forget her name."

"Who's name?" Oswald tentatively asked, poking his head out from underneath the green table.

"Guys!" Piké exclaimed as if this were the first time she had noticed them. She shot over to the table and in one quick motion grabbed it by both ends and swiftly knocked it over, carrots flying everywhere. Oswald and Lilié were huddled together on the floor, the former with a look of shock on his face, the latter with a look of joy.

"Of, how tragic," Lilié bemoaned happily, "a poor beautiful young girl torn apart by her best friend. I can't wait!

"Crazy blond girl?" Oswald said fearfully, "If we don't survive this, tell my sweetheart that I love her and my brother that I... tolerate him."

"Lilié, Oswald," Piké said ecstatically, "I figured out what it all means. Do you guys remember those spells I've been having lately?"

"You mean the one where you thought you were a drill instructor and were suddenly ordering thin air around?" Oswald asked, "Yeah, I remember that."

"Well, for the last few days I have been having these strange dreams, except they weren't dreams," she insisted as she kneeled down to stair at him with those crazed bloodshot eyes, "they were memories! Memories of the missing month! And during that month I remember this girl, she was staying right in this room and she had orange hair in a long braid down her back and she was clumsy and no one else remembers her but _I_ remember her and... and... why are you looking at me like that?"

Her two friends were still huddled on the ground, there faces plastered with the strangest expression she had ever seen given to her.

"Now, Kid," Oswald said slowly as he stood up, "I know you took Foset's (or whatever his name is) rejection hard, so..."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Lilié suddenly interrupted, springing up and sprinting over to Piké, "My dear, dear friend has gone crazy! And now she's going to skin us alive and sew us into a toga! Oh, I can't wait."

Piké took a step back.

"I'm not crazy! There was this girl; she used to go to this school, in the ballet division! But..." she trailed off as she suddenly mover over to the bed and started to search the sheets, "but now she's gone. She used to be here and she's gone."

Once she was satisfied that the orange haired girl was not somehow folded up in the sheers of the bunk bed, the purple haired ballet student then raced across the room to the window and poked her head out, as if she expected the missing girl to be hanging right out-side on a ledge.

"I know they weren't just dreams," Piké insisted, "they felt so real. She _was_ real and now she's just disappeared off the face of the earth and I do not know why!"

"Okay!" Oswald interrupted "Let's just calm down. There is no reason we can't discuss this calmly," he said all of this to Lilié, (who was very calm, but with Lilié it is best not to take chances), but turned back to Piké when he said, "do you remember this girl's name?"

"Duck!" came Piké's response.

In as instant, Oswald and Lilié were back on the floor, huddled together, looking about wide eyed.

"No," Piké said with a grown, "her name is Duck."

"Duck?" Oswald asked, standing back up, "You mean the thing a beak, wings and goes 'quack'? That thing that you say is currently dancing ballet over by the pond? That thing that really, really, really wishes it to be 'rabbit season?' That kind of duck?"

"I-I guess so," Piké said hesitantly, as if she just realized how strange it was for a girl to be named after a waterfowl.

"Oh, Piké," Lilié sighed, happily springing up again, "you are going crazy! We should have a party to celebrate. I know this cute little shop that sales the most hansom cakes..."

"Now, wait a moment, crazy blond girl. We can't just assume she's crazy," Oswald said, "I mean, I've seen some pretty strange things: a giant monster made of paint, a mountain made of junk, a world haling shower and an annoying, psychotic blonde girl with no inner filter."

"Oooooh," Lilié said dreamily, "that last one sounds particularly strange."

"And you yourself," he continued, "have seen a duck dance ballet and have just come off a month that no one remembers. So who's to say the stuff she speaks of can't be tr-"

"Oh, and Lilié," Piké said suddenly, "do you recall how no one can remember who the old ballet instructor is? Well, I remember!"

Lilié clasped her hands together, "Oh, really?"

"Yes, he's over there," Piké pointed over to the window.

Oswald and Lilié turned to see a dark cat had laid itself out on the windowsill, stretching out its tiny body in the morning sun.

Piké smiled and gave the cat a wave.

"Hello, Mr. Cat," she greeted, "Are you doing fine, today? Haven't threatened anyone with marriage yet, I hope?"

The cat, as if in answer, gave a long yawn... then scampered into the room, bit Oswald's hand and then scampered back to leap out the window.

"Have a nice day Mr. Cat," Piké called after it.

Oswald stood there, sucking on his wound, as he watched Piké for a moment, then he turned to Lilié and said, "Okay, _now_ we can assume she's crazy. It's always good to make sure before you start committing people. Saves on straightjackets."

"Oh, how wonderful," Lilié cheered, "now we can have that party."

"What?" Piké exclaimed as she turned from the window and looked at her friends with the wide eyes of disbelief, "I'm not crazy. _I tell you_, that cat was our ballet instructor and not only that, half the school was made up of animals!" she waved her arms dramatically, "There were dogs and cats and ostriches and goats and sheep and-"

"Wait," Oswald interrupted, "were these cartoon animals like me or..."

"Oh no, they were completely normal except that they talked and wore these cute little school uniforms," Piké continued "and one was a giant ant-eater."

Oswald and Lilié gave each other an awkward glace.

"But most importantly," Piké said as she stepped closer, "when the missing month ended, all the animals in town turned back into people and Mr. Cat became a normal cat, but Duck just vanished. This girl, who was in our class and was our best friend, is gone. Nobody remembers her, like she never existed. Something's wrong," she leaned in close, her expression grim, "those dreams weren't normal dreams. They were trying to tell me something. They all centered on Duck and end abruptly. Something happened to her. I don't know what, but we need to find out. Come on guys," she ended with a soft smile.

A tense moment passed, then Oswald turned to Lilié at almost the same time Lilié turned to Oswald and both gave each other a determined nod. Yes, they knew what to do.

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"I'm not crazy!" Piké shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Of course, you not crazy," said Lilié who stood over her friend while wearing a nurse's outfit that Piké wasn't aware she had, "me and Oswald have decided you're sick, suffering from hallucinatory dreams. Oh, you poor thing. Don't worry, Lilié will make it all better!"

Piké grumbled. She didn't really consider being grabbed, carried into her room, being dropped unceremoniously into her bed and then told to get some rest and relaxation making it all better. Even now, as she was tucked into her bed while still in her school uniform, she could do nothing but resist.

"Look, I can't stay here all day. What about class? Madame Verrückt told me that she didn't want me slacking off any more..."

"Don't worry about that," Lilié said with a smile only a mental patient could love, "I'll handle her. I am after all her favorite student."

"She disciplines you every chance she gets," Piké said flatly.

"Yes, I feel so privileged that she gives me so much attention," Lilié said as if she had been given the greatest of honors.

At that moment, the door burst open and in marched Oswald dressed in a white lab coat with a sliver stethoscope hanging around his neck.

"Everyone, have no fear, there is a doctor in the house!" he announced before turning to Lilié "where did you get a nurses outfit?"

"Where did you get a doctor's outfit?" she asked back.

"I'm a cartoon," the rabbit explained, "I'm not sure _I_ know where I got it from."

With that, "Doctor" Oswald hopped over to Piké's bedside.

"And how is our patient, today," he said, but he did not give Piké time to answer before taking what looked like a popsicle stick out of his coat and asking her to say "Ahh!"

Rolling her eyes, the purple haired student opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue and let Oswald pressed the stick against it. For a while, he peered down her throat, his face in total concentration, every once in a while making a sound of thought such as a "hummm" or a "hmmggg" and sometimes he would shift his head from side to side to get a better look.

Finally, after several long moments of this, the rabbit moved the popsicle stick away and announced, "I don't know why doctors do that. I didn't see any thing interesting down there."

Piké slapped her forehead.

Oswald then moved to the end of the bed, grabbed one of the feet hanging out of the covers, pulled off the shoe and pressed the end of the stethoscope onto her sock-clad foot.

"What are you doing?" Piké asked testily.

"Listening for your heart beat," Oswald answered nonchalantly.

"In my foot?"

"A trick I picked up from a seagull." The rabbit explained. Piké slapped her forehead again.

"So patient," Oswald said as he listened for the heartbeat that would not come, "when did you first start having these dreams?"

"Oh, so you're going to psychoanalyze me now?" she huffed, "I suppose you're going to ask me if I had a tough childhood."

Lilié's eyes suddenly lit up. "Did you?"

"Well, my parents _were_ rather strict and- Hay!" Piké said, caching her self, "My childhood was my business, but if you want to know when the dreams started, they started three days ago."

Oswald's head shot up, "Wait, isn't that the day I came here?"

"Yes, it is," Piké answered, "in fact, I first started getting the dreams when you... hit me... on the head..." she slowed down when she realized what she was saying and hastily added, "but I sure that had nothing to do with it!"

But that did not reassure Oswald and Lilié. In an instant, Oswald had hopped onto the bed while Lilié was shouting, "Head trauma! Head trauma! We have a head trauma patient here!" in a sweeter voice then those words deserve.

Oswald's large, bulbous head came close to Piké's. She could smell the pungent odor of dried paint coming off his breath as he inspected the now faded gash.

"Doesn't look so bad," he lightly touched the scar with his index finger and looked to Piké, "that hurt?"

"No," Piké answered.

Oswald pressed a little harder.

"That hurt?"

"No," Piké answered again.

Oswald then grabbed both sides of her head and shook it back and forth.

"Did that hurt?"

"I'll get back to you," Piké said dizzily.

The rabbit hopped down from the bed and said, "Well, we have a diagnosis: you are not dead."

Piké slapped her forehead again. She sure was doing that a lot today.

"Gee, thanks," she said, her voice saturated with sarcasm, "I really needed you to tell me that I didn't die from a hit on the head I got three days ago."

"Don't mention it," Oswald said happily, "But I think that hit did do some damage. Here is my expert opinion," he paused, then said with the utmost air of absolute professionalism and authority, "that boo-boo made your brain all silly."

"My brain is not all silly!" Piké snapped, sitting up, "I... I mean there's nothing wrong with my head. Can't you two see there's something wrong? Madame Verrückt knows there was something wrong, why can't you see it?"

"Now, now," Lilié cooed, "don't you worry. If you just go to sleep, the bad dreams will go away..."

"Lilié," the purple haired girl interrupted, "they're dreams. They happen when you go to sleep. I'll just start having them again."

Lilié's smile was far too wide. "Well, that works too!"

"Come on, Lilié," Piké begged as she grabbed Lilié by the shoulders and gave her a rough shaking, "I know the memories are still in there. She is a girl our age; her name is duck; we were in the same class together; she stayed in the room at the end of the hall; she was clumsy at ballet and was always daydreaming about boys far too good for her; and she was terribly clumsy and... stop giggling, this is serious!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said an unsorry Lilié, "But this imaginary girl of yours sounds so adorable, it's a pity that she's not real."

"Okay, that's enough of that," the rabbit interrupted, hopping down from the bed and towards the door, "we should let our patient get some rest."

He opened the door for Lilié with a grand gesture, who curtsied in reply and exited. Oswald fallowed, closing the door behind him.

"Wait!" Piké called out, her boyish voice strand, "What about Duck?"

Oswald continued to slowly pull the door behind him. "Oh, I bet she could use some rest too. Popping in and out of your dreams can't be easy."

"But you don't understand! For a month we were friends, and then she just disappears and no one remembers her? That's not fair! She's out there with no one." Tears were streaming down her face. Oswald had almost closed the door now, but she continued, her voice growing hoarse, "We can't just abandon her! How would you like it if you were lost in some strange place alone waiting for some one to find you, but no one ever will, because they've _forgotten you?_"

The door stopped, just inches away from shutting and for a moment it stayed that way. Then the door opened and the Lucky Rabbit walked slowly and sadly in. Earlier, Piké had dismissed Oswald's claim that he was older than Lilié's grandfather's grandfather, but now she could see it. She didn't know how, his face was free of wrinkles and other sings of age, but it was there: almost one hundred years of doubts, worries, fears and sorrow, all in those dot-like eyes.

Oswald slowly walked over and sat down at the foot of the bed, then he turned his large head to her with a sad smile.

"What if I told you," He said as if he were a father telling a bed time story to his daughter, "that there is a place were those who have been forgotten go, a wonderful place were those lost people can do anything they want."

Piké sniffed. She wasn't a little girl any more and was skeptical but let herself wipe her tears. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," He continued, "they have a jungle to explore and a haunted house and a pirate island and a castle and..."

"You're making this up," Piké said, though her tone was a lot less strained.

"No, I've been there. And right in front of the castle is a small street lined with shops and a little place where you can buy the most delicious ice cream. And right after dusk, just when the sky has gone dark, there is the most spectacular fireworks show you've ever seen," he stood up on the bed, his arms raised, "and when it's all over, the stars come out and they are the most beautiful stars, hand painted with the most love and care. They tinkle until morning..."

"And," Piké said, stifling a yawn, "you think Duck is there?" she snuggled under the covers, trying desperately not to show that she was sleepy.

Oswald gave a smile. "Sure, Kid," he said simply and hopped back to the door, "I bet she's having the time of her life."

He reached for the knob and was about to close the door behind him when he heard the faint voice from inside: "Oswald, thanks for trying to cheer me up."

Oswald smiled back at the half-asleep girl before shutting the door. He didn't really think she would fall for that story, even if most of it was true, but it did quiet her down.

The morning light still had yet to stream through the dusty window at the hall's end as Oswald retuned to his drafty loft slower than he had walked earlier. Recounting the world he had long considered a prison had strangely mad him homesick, something he never thought would happen when he had dreamt of escape for so many years. But here he was, entering a chilly loft and wishing he was back in his castle with his friends. Several birds had already crowded outside the window of his room, but the tiny rabbit looked past them into the blue sky that seemed far more real now then it had ever been in a long time.

Piké was wrong, Oswald did know what it was like to be forgotten. Twice over.

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"Sick?" Madame Verrückt repeated, momentarily distracted from helping a student with her form on the barre.

"Oh, yes," Lilié said with her usual excitement over such topics, "she's terribly sick. She got ... uh, Claustrophobia!"

The Instructor raised an eyebrow, "Miss Lilié, Claustrophobia is not really an illness. It is fear of small or closed spaces, and as such, she would probably be better off in the wide open practice room then her small dormitory ro-"

"I'm sorry, did I say Claustrophobia? I meant Malaria," Lilié corrected, her happy smile never wavering.

"And were did Miss Piké contract Malaria around here in Western Europe?" Verrückt asked, folding her arms.

"Chicken-pox!" Lilié exclaimed as if she had found the best solution for a problem, "She has Chicken-pox. Imagine that poor thing, all alone, itching all over but unable to do any thing about it. It must be complete torture." She gave a giggle at the thought.

Madame Verrückt gave the blond haired student a hard look, to which Lilié only smiled back, looking for all the world like she had no idea that she was being glared at.

"Very well, Miss Lilié," the instructor said after awhile, "Give Miss Piké my best wishes that she'll get better soon. Now please start warming up."

Lilié gave her teacher an even wider smile and skipped off. With a sigh, Madame Verrückt retuned to her student who was very close to falling on her face. With that straightened out, she scanned the room for any more problems. And there, at the far end of the room, she saw a pretty big problem.

Senior Fakir was stretching at the barre, his eyes focused on the floor. After a bit, he gave an angry grunt and switched legs, all the while looking rather distracted.

"Mr. Fakir," Verrückt greeted as she approached him, "a rare pleasure to see you at morning practice."

Fakir's only answer was a low murmur.

"In fact," she continued, "it has been a treat just to see you in the advanced classes recently. May I ask why that is?"

Fakir tuned his head but said nothing. He sized Madame Verrückt, looking very much annoyed with her. Then he gave a very blunt reply.

"I've been busy."

"Too busy to practice?" the instructor asked.

"Yes," the male dancer said curtly.

Madame Verrückt took a deep breath, "Mr. Fakir. I've heard your been asking around about transferring to the writing division. If you believe your path lies somewhere other than ballet, then I can't disagree with you, but why in heaven's name have you not transferred already and stopped wasting everyone's time?"

A long pause followed. The dark haired boy spent this time glaring at his teacher as he had been prone to, then he gave his answer. A simple answer that made it clear that he would not be giving any more.

"I'm not done yet."

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It had been a long day for everybody. Madame Verrückt seemed particularly strict in class and the day seemed to drag. The students, not to used to concentrating on lessons, instead took to gossiping about various things, such as the strange ruckus started yesterday by someone's little brother, Senor Faker's even more-so than usual aloof behavior and Piké strange absence from class, the last one was fueled by Lilié being happy to share where she was, though the story seemed to change every time she told it.

"Oh, she is down with a terrible case of Claustrophobia and must stay inside so the walls close in on her," she said one time. "Oh, she's been kidnapped by treacherous diamonds smugglers and being held for ransom," she said another time. "Oh, she found out she was the long lost princess of a faraway land and is being held for ransom by Claustrophobic diamond smugglers," she said yet another time.

Arguing over which of these stories was true provided enough entertainment to get through the dreary morning lessons and when it was time for lunch the students each filed off to there respective changing rooms and from there it was a sort walk to the small pond in the small wooded aria.

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Groups of teenagers gathered in front of the tiny body of water, chatting, arguing and genuinely just waiting for the show to start. Many had taken for the shade of the trees that dotted the aria but others were happy out in the sun.

It wasn't a very hot day at all with a gentle breeze that fanned the skin. Many a picnic blanket had been laid out and a good deal of the students were enjoying the peaceful lunch hour.

And on a small hill overlooking the pound, a certain two female ballet students sat quietly enjoying their lunch, this time joined by someone even more not-quit.

"When is it going to show," Oswald said, impatiently tugging on his cost, "we've been here for a whole minute!"

"Be patient!" Piké scolded, taking a bite of her sandwich, "It may come today and it may not. We won't know if you scare it away with your whining." She gave a huff and crossed her arms, "I don't know why we're here anyway, we should be looking for Duck-"

"We're waiting for _a_ duck," Lilié chirped happily.

"Not that kind of duck!" the purple haired girl snapped, "The girl named Duck from my dream!"

"And," Oswald piped in, "How do you suggest we find a girl who no one remembers and who you said just disappeared into thin air?"

Piké's face went blank for a moment. Her nose twitched a bit before she finally answered, "We could search Lilié's room."

Oswald gave her an expression, the kind of expression that speaks to someone and tells that someone what their thinking, and right now Oswald was plainly thinking "Really?"

Defeated, Piké hunched her shoulders and continued to eat her sandwich.

Oswald took a carrot from the pate in front of him and hesitantly took a bite.

"Besides, have you forgotten I have to check this thing out to see if it has any connection to the cartoon world? No offense, but I can't stay in a ballet school forever. I have my dignity to think of."

"Oh, that's okay, Mr. Lucky Rabbit. You can stay with me!" Lilié stated with her usual vigor.

Oswald almost chocked on his carrot before he could finally blurt out, "Over my dead body!"

Lilié squalled excitedly and grabbed Oswald in a hug."Did you hear that Piké? He said if he dies I can take him home!"

The rabbit struggled against the arms of his captor. "She's joking right?" he pleaded to Piké, "Tell me she's joking!"

Whatever was to be said next went unsaid as the trio realized that the crowd around them had stopped the senseless chatter that crowds always seem to produce. In this silence could be heard a rustling from the curtain of reed on the other side of the tiny pond.

Out of the reeds stepped a tiny yellow duckling. It looked almost embarrassed as it stepped out into the stage of dirt and gave a little curtsy. Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, it began to dance. It wasn't the best dance; ever other spin was wobbly, it stumbled over most its steps and spent most of the routine on her butt rather than on her feet. It was an embarrassment to watch, which is why Oswald could only look around in confusion as ever other student around him looked on with starry eyes.

"I don't get this," he whispered to the other two, "my only knowledge of ballet comes from a movie that features mountain-top devils, dancing mushrooms, and walking broomsticks and even _I _know this isn't very good."

"I know," Lilié beamed "is it not wonderful?"

"But," continued Oswald, ether not noticing or just ignoring Lilié's comment, "every one here is watching it as if it was the best thing ever."

"It's a duck Oswald," Piké answered back, "have you ever seen a duck dance before."

"I personally know a duck that can not only dance, but stand on his head, sing opera and do your taxes all at the same time."

Piké rolled her eyes before turned them back to the performing waterfowl. It wasn't _that _bad, she thought. Not nearly as bad as some of the more novice students at the school. In fact, the duck's dancing looked somewhat familiar... rather familiar indeed...

The group continued to watch said waterfowl for the next several minutes. Every stumble, every pause, and every move was given the upmost attention by the students, as Oswald just sat there looking board.

When the dance had finally ended, the duck picked itself off from the ground wince it had tumbled, gave another curtsy before it fled back into the reed.

"Here's my chance!" the rabbit king declared as he sprang up and darted forward.

"Where are you going, Mr. Luck Rabbit?" Lilié asked in a mix of worry and excitement.

"I've got to catch it, see if it's from the cartoon world!"

"Wait, Mr. Luck Lucky Rabbit," Lilié called back, gabbing Piké by the arm, "we'll come with- Piké? Is there something the matter?"

Lilié had turned to her friend in mid-sentence and had found her hunched over massaging her temples.

"I don't know," was all the purple haired girl could say.

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Oswald may not have been a real rabbit, but he was still as swift and cunning as one. How else dose one survive a horrible war with pant monsters? It's an experience that teaches you to stay on your tows.

And he demonstrated this dexterity as he ran through brush and grass, swiftly yet silently as he looked for his pray. When he reached a clearing he stopped to get his baring.

The noon-day sun, high in the sky, streamed through the branches all around him. He searched about him, his ears twitching as he listened for any sound. A rustling caught his attention and he turned in its direction, seeing a flash of yellow off in the distance. The rabbit gave a confident smile and continued his pursuit.

"That was terrible!"

Oswald suddenly came to a halt when he heard that very angry voice coming from up ahead. It was a voice he had heard very recently, yesterday in fact, and just hearing it made his eyes narrow.

The rabbit moved forward slowly, feeling his way though the brush till finally he spied the scene through two parted branches. There stood the Dancing Duck, its head bowed in shame, and before it was Fakir, his arms crossed and his face scowling.

"You call that ballet!" he reprimanded, "It looked like you could barely stand on your own webbed feet!"

With out looking up, the duck said, "Quack quack, quack-quack-qua-"

"I've had enough of your whining," Faker interrupted, "I don't even know why I let you dance for those people if they're just going to be a distraction. Maybe we should just stop all together."

At this the duck's head shot up. "Quack! Quack quack quack, quack quack-quack..."

"They may mean something to _you_," the student said, his face growing darker, "but you mean nothing to them!"

He kneeled down, his face coming just above the wary eyes of the little bard. His expression shifted, putting on a blank mask. Somehow, it was more chilling than old-fashioned anger.

"To them, you are nothing but a duck. Just a duck. I made sure they forgot all about you, so why are you embarrassing yourself."

At hearing this, Oswald's ears began to rise in shock and he had to pull them down. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

Fakir's eyes coldly stared at the little duck down, almost as if he froze her with his gaze. After a moment he stood, still staring at her.

"They are not your friends anymore, Duck. Piké and Lilié don't even know you exist. If you want to achieve something, you should spend less time on them and more time on your goal."

Fakir's gaze began to soften and he gave a faint, sad smile. "How do you expect to be seen as something more than just a duck when you keep looking to the past and its comforts? They won't help you move forward Duck, not when you dwell on them."

Finally the little duck raised her eyes to meet the boy's, shimmering in the noon day sun with moisture. Finally she gave a defeated quack.

Fakir let out a sigh as he scooped up the duck and held her to his chest. She snuggled up against him and they stayed like that for awhile, both silent, both still.

Oswald did not see this tender moment. In fact, he had not seen most of Fakir's speech. He had run off in terror at the utterance of Piké and Lilié's names.

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The rabbit stumbled out of the brush and dusted some leaves off his coat.

Well that had been surreal, he thought as he walked back to the small hill where the others were sitting. He really had a hard time wrapping his mind around it; he had just seen Fakir talking with a duck as if it could understand him and he had admitted that _he _was behind the missing month and did it so... no one would remember a duck?

No, not _a_ duck, Duck. Fakir had said it as if it were a name. Oswald's little dot eyes shrunk in realization. Piké had been right.

"Oswald!"

The rabbit came to a stop when he heard the voice. That was Lilié and she sounded particularly happy. Something must be wrong!

He was off in a blaze of blue, leaping over students, sprinting over picnic blankets, barreling through carefully laid out lunches until he reached the small hill to find Piké lying on the grass dazed and Lilié trying to wake her up unsuccessfully.

"I don't know what happened," Lilié said in an excited manner, "she just fell over and started murmuring to herself. Poor thing."

Oswald kneeled beside Piké and frantically began shaking her shoulders.

"Kid? Hay Kid. Don't do this! Kid!"

He received no answer but one low mutter; something that sounded like "Nothing."


	7. Just a Crow

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 7

"Nothing, nothing, nothing..."

Piké once again stared into the swirling black darkness, amused by the fact that she was kind of getting used to this. Indeed, the constant feeling of dizziness wasn't half as bad and the thousand voices repeating the word "Nothing" were rather harmonious in their way. She briefly wondered if it was possible to sign up a bunch of incorporeal voices to the school choir.

Soon, however, the blackness faded and she was now in the lessons room, surrounded by students and animals. No, she had to remind herself, these animals _were_ students, too. In fact, now that she studied them, she realized that many of these animals talked, acted and even somewhat looked like many of her fellow students in her class. What was going on in this strange missing month that she was currently remembering? Had what happened to Duck happened to these students, too? If so, then why were they back to normal in the present?

She and Lilié were at their usual place at the barre stretching their legs. Judging from the tired (and yet still blissful) expression on her blond friend's face, it was the end-of-day-stretches and the rest of the class, human or no, held the same look of weariness, if none of the enthusiasm.

By now Piké had resigned herself to just go along with it. She couldn't change anything that was about to happen; her past self literally did all the talking. There was no point in fighting it.

Lazily, she gazed around the room, taking note of the various people and animals stretching, Mr. Cat moving about the room in a similar manner to Madame Verrückt and Lilié's constant giggling behind her. Through all this she felt like something was wrong. It was like that feeling one get's when one thinks they've forgotten something they do every day but can't be sure. She just felt something was missing, like she had forgotten...

Wait a moment. Where was Duck?

Piké looked about the lessons room, but found no sing of the orange haired girl. Every time she had one of these visions, Duck had always been there. Where was she? Did something happen...?

"Miss Piké!"

The purple haired student was pulled out of her thoughts by the large purple cat that was walking up toward her and looking far more purple than usual. As he stood towering before her, eye twitching and sweating profusely, he said in an even voice, "I will ask you for the last time, Miss Piké, where in the name of all that is holy has Miss Duck gone that she has missed my class two days in a row."

"I-I don't know sir," she, again, said with out meaning to, "me and Lilié haven't seen her since yesterday morning. Isn't that right, Lilié?"

Her blond friend gave an enthusiastic nod, but Mr. Cat ignored her, twisting his head about the room in feral movements. Piké could feel her past self shaking, afraid of whatever matrimony-based punishments might be inflicted on her. Not that she didn't sympathize with her past self. Her gut told that even for the up tight Mr. Cat, this was unsettling behavior. Had Duck done something wrong?

"You know," Mr. Cat suddenly said his voice steady and low, "I haven't seen Mr. Mytho or Mr. Fakir today ether and Miss Rue has been absent far too long for a sprained ankle," he took a step forward, "you wouldn't know any thing of that, would you?"

Piké shook her head. "No, sir, I wouldn't say-"

"Fakir and Duck are in love!" Lilié shouted in a fit of giggles.

Mr. Cat's whiskers twitched while Piké gave a sigh of relief. She should have been angry at Lilié for letting that out, but she knew (she didn't know how, she just knew) that the best way to get on Mr. Cat's good side was to mention love. It was also the quickest way to get a marriage proposal, but right now she thought they were safe.

Sure enough, Mr. Cat twirled around in a circle, his arms spread wide. "Ah, young love. Is there nothing as beautiful? Is there nothing as precious?" He turned back to Piké and Lilié his eyes shimmering. "Is it right for me to interrupt such splendor? Can I really just put a stop to love in bloom?"

Then just as Piké was about to relax, Mr. Cat's eyes went dark again and he leaned forward.

"Considering I'd lose my job if I didn't, I think I can preform a small sin in the name of the grater good."

He stepped back and gave the two girls a level eye, "Why don't you two scurry off to the girl's dormitory and see if Miss Duck and Miss Rue are in their rooms. I will send someone to check on Mr. Mytho and Mr. Fakir."

Piké stood there uncertainly; sometimes glancing at Lilié but mostly on Mr. Cat. After a moment of non-action, Mr. Cat gave an extremely non-pleased ultimatum: "Miss Piké, get moving or I will make you m... m... m..."

He didn't need to finish as Piké and Lilié had already shot through the door. As fast as they could, the two students dashed to the changing room, changed into their uniforms and sprinted down the otherwise peaceful street in mid afternoon, Lilié giggling all the way.

When they reached the dormitory, the two split up as soon as they entered through the big oak doors. Lilié had insisted on going to Duck's room, saying she had to be there to "comfort" her. Piké wasn't sure if that was a good idea, but she had no time to argue. Lilié headed for their familiar flight of stairs, while Piké turned for another set of stairs in the opposite direction.

Piké did not know Rue personally, but like every girl at the Academy, she looked up to her. After all, she was the best female dancer, head of the advanced class and all around nice girl. Not that she ever talked to Piké or anything, so she had no personal encounters with her to tell her so... but she had to be nice. She was Rue!

And despite never having really known her, Piké did know which room was hers: the suet. Since Rue was the best student, it only made sense that she got the biggest, most elegant, most beautiful room.

And it was easy enough to find, too. Soon Piké was standing in front of the huge double-doors that served as a portal to excellence far better then she ever deserved. Why, just looking at these doors made her feel small. Compared to the other doors they were larger and more elegantly crafted, telegraphing class far more then the poor beginner's student was used to.

At first she hesitated, too self-conscious to do anything. Finally, she convinced herself to knock on the door. That wouldn't be seen as a slight, wouldn't it?

Slowly she scooted up to the door. She was very careful not to make a sound as if the door would bite her for being disturbed. Then she raised her fist and gave a very light, almost inaudible knock, then leaped back in terror. When the inevitable nothing happened, she gathered her courage and tried again, this time she would make a bit more of an effort.

Again she shuffled over to the doors and knocked lightly only this time she said in a very hushed whisper, "Rue are you in there?" before jumping back. Again, this had no effect.

Fortunately, she was becoming more bold as she started to realize that the doors would not eat her and this time she walked up more determined (but still quietly) and brought her fist down on the rightmost door more firmly... and jumped back when the door swung inward. In her preoccupation with the task she had not noticed that the door had been slightly open.

Piké backed up against the hallway wall, not sure what she should do now. Should she enter and tell Rue herself or go back and tell Mr. Cat that Rue had not answered her very light knocking? Only the threat of "marital bliss" with Mr. Cat gave her enough determination to approach the door one last time.

"Uh... Rue?" she said, her voice much louder, "I don't mean to disturb you, but Mr. Cat asked me to see if your ankle was feeling any better."

She received no answer and she tried again. "Well, I don't mean to accuse you of anything but Mytho and Fakir haven't been to class and Mr. Cat wanted to know if you knew anything about that."

She still received no answer as she reached the doorway and slowly poked her head inside.

"Duck has also gone missing. You know, that girl you danced the _Pa de Deux _with? You haven't seen her, have yo...?" She trailed off as she peered inside.

The room was huge, at lest three times as big as her room. It had large windows as big as the wall that looked out onto the courtyard and a queen size canopy bed over by the far wall. This was truly a room fit for a princess!

It was also covered in feathers. Black feathers, that where spread all over the floor and bed. These feathers were huge, as if they came from a bird the size of a man. Piké suddenly went cold with fear, not just past-Piké who was just a figment of this memory, but also the Piké watching this through her eyes. She wasn't supposed to see this. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew this was wrong. There was something wrong with those feathers, they just seemed so... so... unnatural.

She backed away from the door slowly before braking into a run. Something was very wrong. This dream wasn't like the others.

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"Miss Piké," Madame Verrückt shouted as she pounded on Piké's door, "I wish to speak with you."

The door opened slightly and a yellow topped head greeted her.

"Why hello, Madame Verrückt," Lilié greeted, "a good afternoon to-"

"Don't 'good afternoon' me, young lady," Madame Verrückt said, "I want to see Miss Piké this instant."

Lilié gave an oddly happy sad-face, "Oh, I'm sorry, but she can't see anyone right now. She's very sick."

"Don't give me that," the teacher snapped, her multitude of patience wearing thin, "several students saw her today at lunch. They say she didn't have a spot on her."

"Well, why would she have spots on her," Lilié asked with the utmost sincerity.

"You said she had the chicken pox'" Verrückt said dryly.

"Oh, yeah. Well I was mistaken. It turns out she just had a bad case of the flu."

"You mistook the flu for the chicken pox?"

"My knowledge of diseases has never been very good." The blond's smile never wavered as she said this.

"Also," Verrückt continued, "if she is so sick, then why was she out at lunch?"

"Well," Lilié said in a matter-of-fact tone, "you can't expect me to keep her inside during lunch, do you?"

At this point, Verrückt had had enough and pushed the door open. "Okay, Miss Lilié, this has gone on for..." She stopped in mid sentence as she stepped into Piké's room. There, barely visible in the diminishing afternoon light, Piké lay in her bed, her eyes shut tight and tossing as if she were having some sort of fever dream. The older women moved forward in worry and put a hand to her student's forehead. It was burning hot.

"And I take it this is why you weren't it class this afternoon?" she as asked Lilié without turning.

"Oh, yes," came Lilié's answer, "I just couldn't leave my poor, poor Piké all alone to suffer."

Verrückt gave a solemn nod and slowly walked out to the hallway only stopping briefly to turn to Lilié, "You must forgive me Miss Lilié, it seems I have misjudged you. You went out of your way for a friend. That is admirable." And with that she was gone.

The room was still for a moment after Verrückt left, with Lilié smiling at the closed door as if the teacher was still there. Then, a rustling sound was heard and out from under the bed emerged a black rabbit with a relived look on his face. "Good job, crazy blond girl. You tricked her into thinking you're a good friend."

"What do you mean?" Lilié said without turning, "I _am _a good friend!" She then let out a giggle that unnerved Oswald somewhat.

Deciding not to answer the blond-haired girl, he turned his attention to Piké.

He stared at her unruly form for a bit, his tiny little dot eyes shimmering with worry. Finally, he turned to Lilié. "Say, I hate to ask this... really... but could you watch over her for a while? I need some time to think."

Lilié suddenly pivoted on her heel, shear delight on her face. "Oh, I get to take care of the poor, pathetic Piké. Oh, how splendid! I will go get my nurses outfit."

With that, she burst from the room with an insane smile.

As Oswald left for his loft, he couldn't help but feel that he was making a mistake leaving the girl with Lilié. But he really needed to be alone right now. So mush had happened in the last few days, it was almost making him sick with whiplash.

He entered the dark room, nearly tripped over the steps and made his way to the table in the center of the room to light the tiny lamp. Then, tried out by all the excitement, Oswald climbed up into the bunk bed and laid against the ducky pillow he had found. It was lucky he found this pillow; it really leavened up the dreary place. Thought, he had to wonder who left it here. Well, this was a girl's dormitory and the cute pillow looked like it was made to appeal to girls, so than the answer was obvious. But what girl would just leave a perfectly good pillow just laying around, unless something happened to... her...

Say, didn't Piké say Duck used to live in this room...

The pieces came together in his mind and he didn't like it. In an instant, he had tossed the pillow across the room in shock, almost as if sleeping against that pillow was like sleeping against a dead body.

He stayed there, frozen, laying with his head against the headboard for a while, a very long while. And during this long while, his eyes did not leave the ducky pillow. He watched it, half afraid it would move and half afraid it would not, until finally he jumped down from the bed and lurched over where it lay then carefully lifted up the pillow and lightly placed it on the bed. He then solemnly took the sheets and pulled them over the pillow slowly. He said nothing during all of this and when he was finished he remained silent for a few moments before dropping down from the bed. He didn't think he'd be sleeping in bed tonight. Maybe he could find a warm spot to huddle in by the drafty window.

He waddled up to the window, but as he idly looked out, he saw a figure exiting the boys dormitories across the courtyard. Even in the dim light it looked very familiar, especially that dark hair tied in a ponytail.

"Now what are you doing out," Oswald whispered to himself. It was a good question to ask as Piké had told him that students we're not allowed out of the dormitories after dark and it was already the darkest part of dusk. Then he noticed the bright yellow bundle that the boy held in his arms. He could see it move slightly.

"Duck."

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The lake looked peaceful enough, Oswald supposed. It certainly was a scenic spot, nestled in a small grove just outside the town's wall. And it certainly was beautiful enough, what with the darkness giving the lake the deepest shad of blue and the fireflies drifting around lazily and a night mist starting to settle. All they needed was a scull saying "dead men tell no tales" and they'd be all set.

What Oswald didn't understand was why Fakir came all the way out here. It hadn't been hard to follow him; all the rabbit had to do was stick to the rooftops and keep an eye on what was by then the only figure on the streets. Soon Fakir had left town through one of the gates and slowly strolled through the wooded area until he reached the lake, Oswald taking cover in a bush near the shore.

Now the rabbit looked on confused as the dark haired student placed Duck onto the wooden pier and began to unfold the folding chair that Oswald hadn't realized he'd been carrying. When the boy was comfortable in his chair, he took out a quill and a primitive clipboard and gave a nod to the little duckling, who dropped into the water with a "ploop" and swam to the middle of the lake. Then Fakir put his pen to paper and began to write.

At first Oswald could only raise an eye brow at this, but then he noticed movement coming from the lake and when he averted his attention there, he was in quit a shock.

Duck was dancing. _On top of the water! _Not even the most water-logged waterfowl could _stand _on water, though Oswald guessed that the mysterious magic sparkles that surrounded Duck had something to do with it. Soon the sparkles seemed to get brighter and brighter, until there was a flash of light and the Dancing Duck was replaced by a dancing swan. No, wait. It was a girl with bright orange hair and in a pure white ballet tutu. No, it was the swan again. Then the girl. Then the swan. It was fading from one form to the other, almost at random.

And throughout all of this, Fakir kept writing. Not once did he look up, he just kept writing.

Oswald continued to watch this bizarre moment for what must have been several hours until Fakir stopped his writing and the strange phantom in the lake turned back into a duckling. The duck obediently swam up to the dock and flapped up on to the student's arms. Oswald wasted no time in retreating from the scene, not sure what he just witnessed.

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"Miss Rue wasn't in her room?" Mr. Cat said angrily.

"No sir," was all dream-Piké could speak out in fear.

"And nether was Miss Duck?" he asked again.

"No, sir," was all Lilié could speak out in a fit of giggles.

The feline dance instructor put a paw to his chin, "Well then, I am very disappointed. If it was just one of my students, I wouldn't be surprised... but four? And three of are my best at that! This is unacceptable," he turned back to Piké and Lilié, "I'm afraid I still have use of you two."

Piké groaned inwardly but wisely said nothing.

"We'd be happy to help," Lilié said, her voice enriched with pure joy, "we can search all the places that girls hang out for Rue and our darling little Duck."

Piké gave her friend an angry glare, but could say nothing as the blond haired girl pulled her into a tight hug.

Mr. Cat for his part seemed pacified by this. "That is an excellent idea, Miss Lilié. We'll split up. Now, off you go. We'll meet up by the church."

Piké really did not want to look for Rue. Not after what she had seen in that room. The whole thing just gave her a feeling of uneasiness. But she knew better then to argue with Mr. Cat or Lilié alone, so the two of them agreeing on an action (itself a rarity) was just impossible to fight.

So she set out. It was late-afternoon and school had been let out, so most places she checked were swarming with students, all in the identical school uniforms. However, she didn't think her task would be difficult. Rue was too beautiful to blend into a crowd, Fakir tended to stand out, especially if he didn't want to, Mytho could be seen a mile away with his silver hair and Duck... well, Duck was Duck. No crowd could hide her.

As time went on, however, she began to wonder if she overestimated her crowd spotting abilities. She had checked the shopping plaza, the school grounds, several of the most popular streets and a popular restaurant she knew at the edge of town. She didn't find hide nor hair of the four deserters.

The more she couldn't find, the more worried she got. What really bothered her was Duck's involvement in all this. Duck could be late for class, sure, but skipping class all together was just not in her. She knew she had been spending time with Fakir recently, but what had she to do with Rue... and those feathers.

Caught up in her thoughts as she was, she almost didn't see him. Down one of the less crowded street she caught a glimpse of a familiar ponytail. She ran down the cobblestone and turned a corner and there he was, Senior Fakir walking at a brisk pace.

"Senior Fakir," she shouted, but he didn't seem to hear her, so she sprinted forward, almost crashing into several older women having a conversion.

"Senior Fakir, Senior Fakir," she continued, but he still did not react. She closed the distance to him and stopped right in front of him... and watched, shocked, as he passed right by without even looking at her.

"Senior Fakir?" she asked as she ran up behind him, "Mr. Cat asked me to find you. He wants to know where you and Senior Mytho have been."

He stopped, but did not turn around. Instead he simply said, "We've been around," and continued walking.

This did not stop Piké.

"I think Mr. Cat needs more than that."

Fakir did not even stop this time. "We've been practicing."

"Practicing?" Piké shot back, "Practicing where? We already searched the practice room."

The boy did not answer.

Well, Wonderful Fakir or no, Piké could only stomach so much. She sprinted forward and again jumped in front of him, this time spreading her arms wide.

"That's it! Mr. Cat has got me and Lilié running all throughout town looking for you and I am not going back to him to tell him that you were 'just practicing'!" She huffed, "Especially if Duck is involved."

Fakir gave his underclassmen a void stare before asking, "What do you care about Duck?"

"Well, she is my friend," Piké answered.

This answerer only made Fakir sighed sadly, "No, she is not you're friend. You only think she is you're friend because some old man decided she was. In reality, you don't care about her."

Piké made a defiant huff. "What are you talking about. Of course she is my friend."

"Well as of today, she is not," Fakir said as he shoved past her with his shoulder, "and I suggest you forget about her."

Before Piké could run after him again, he walked up to a house at a corner. The door opened instantly, and out stepped a wormy looking preteen boy in an Academy uniform and glasses. The two exchanged words for a moment, then the other boy stepped aside letting Fakir enter and both disappeared behind the closing door leaving a confused Piké out in the cool Afternoon breeze.

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That was a pretty good evening at the lake, Fakir thought as he laid the already sleeping little yellow duckling down on a small cushion. It had been a particularly hard day for her and he could only sympathize.

He gave her a small pat on the head and began to put away his writing utensils. As he did, he glanced around the room quickly. I was much smaller than the suite that he and Mytho had shared, but he preferred it that way. So much that when he had erased a month from the townspeople's memories, he had decided not to move back in. Besides, he would probably have to share the suite with someone else and he would rather not.

He needed his privacy, not just so he could let Duck sleep in his room, but so he could work in peace.

Speaking of work...

He put away the last of his equipment and moved over to his desk, where the story he showed to Autor was resting. He picked it up and flipped through it. He had to admit, Autor had a point. The story did seem a little bland, but he couldn't risk writing anything else. Besides, bland or not, it was his story. He put his sole into it, every word chosen precisely, all for Duck. It was his gift for her.

And so, he took Duck's story over to the waste basket and ripped it to pieces, tearing at it fiercely, bits and shreds drifting over the basket like snow. Once finished, he went back to his desk and started to look over the story he had written that evening.

This one might please Autor. Not exactly the most exciting thing, but he tried to give it a little more mystery. If anything, it had to at lest improve the overall mood.

He went through the story page by page, looking for any spelling mistakes and the such. Every thing seemed fine, until he got to the last paragraph of the last page:

_And thus, as the tiny little duck ended her_

_night time celebration of life, she left_

_what was once called the lake of despair _

_and returned home with her fateful _

_guardian, all the while unaware that she _

_had been watched by the _

_Forgotten King._

Fakir leaped from his chair with a shout at reading this... and immediately regretted it when he heard a small quack from behind him. He whipped around to find the duckling looking at him with wide eyes.

"Nothing," he said with a smile, "just go back to sleep.'

Duck looked at him unsurely, but Fakir was already rereading the paragraph over and over and over.

He didn't understand: who was the "Forgotten King." Whoever he was, Fakir wrote him into the story, so he must have been there.

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"What's going on? What's going on? What's going on?" Dream Piké repeated over and over as she raced down the cobblestone streets, so freaked out that she started talking to herself, "First creepy feathers in Rue's room, then Fakir starts acting strangely... what's going on?"

She ran across the bridge to the school grounds not caring who she bumped or mowed down or stumbled over. She kept running until she stopped in front of Mr. Cat, who was by the fountain trying to convince Lilié that it was unlikely that the missing students were eaten by rhinos.

"Mr. Cat, Mr. Cat," she stammered, breathing heavily, "I saw Fakir!"

"Truly? Well, where is he?" Mr. Cat asked, "Why isn't he with you?"

"He just shrugged me off"

"Well," the cat said, his tone indicating he had enough of this game, "I think I need to have a talk with Mr. Fakir. Do you still know where he is?"

"I saw him enter the house of another student." Piké informed. She herself was getting tired of today's madness.

"Very good, young lady. Lead the way."

And Piké did, followed by Mr. Cat, then Lilié, then several students that had been watching the proceedings. As they marched through the school courtyard, they attracted more attention from the students who followed to see what was going on. By the time they reached the streets they had an entire progression made up of people and animals following behind.

Piké didn't pay attention to any of this, her mind was on Duck. She had been worried about her ever since Fakir had mentioned Duck. What did he know about her? The two of them had been spending quit a bit of time together, something she and Lilié had playfully encouraged. Had something happened?

Her thoughts were sidetracked, however, when she felt something wet splash her face. Looking up she saw the sky was covered in dark clouds and starting to rain, which was very strange since it was clear just a moment ago.

She pressed on but something didn't feel right...

"Piké..."

Something about this rain...

"Piké..."

It looked funny for some reason...

"Piké..."

Then it hit her: it was red. The rain drops falling from the sky were red.

"Piké!"

Curiously, Piké held out a hand, caching several droplets in her palm and tasted them. What she tasted was blood.

"Piké!"

It was raining blood!

"Piké!"

_Why_ was it raining blood?!

"_Piké!_"

"What!" Piké finally shouted, turning to Lilié, who's prodding had finally irritated her enough for her to react... only for her to chock on her words.

Lilié was clutching her arm, which now was sprouting several black feathers very similar to the ones she had seen in Rue's room. In fact, it didn't even look like an arm anymore, more like a wing. And more feathers were starting to grow on her other arm. But what really got Piké's attention was Lilié's expression, which was now devoid of her usual cheer and happiness. In its place was a look of fear, icy blue eyes wide and her mouth half open.

For the first time Piké could ever remember, Lilié was afraid. No acts or false tears, she was truly, truly afraid.

Piké looked over to Mr. Cat, who looked very befuddled, before talking a step foreword.

"Lilié...?"

"Caw!" Lilié answered, spreading her wing-like arms.

In shock, Piké scanned the entire crowd. All of the students... no, not just the students, all of the people who were passing around them too were growing feathers and not just on their arms but on their faces. Their hair was also turning black and feathery, a site they began to notice of others with bemusement.

Piké's body tensed as she slowly looked down at her arm. Feathers were covering a good portion of her forearm. She stepped back in shock, her head going up as she remembered the only new thing that could be causing this… this nightmare.

"The rain!" She shouted, lifting her half transformed arm in an attempt to shield herself. Lilié, perhaps in a similarly futile effort to protect herself, flapped her soon-to-be wings as she hopped from one foot to the other, squawking like some sort of bird. It was not long before Piké joined her in this strange little dance as the rest of their bodies morphed; their heads and necks becoming more rounded and a beak forming from their face.

During all this, Piké's mind was reeling and spinning. It was getting harder and harder to think. After a bit, strange images began to invade her consciousness, that of a prince- young and dashing who wealed a magic sword.

She saw him, in her mine. Her human mind recognized this prince, but that part of her was fading. The new part of her wanted only one thing from this strapping young prince: his heart. She wanted to rip his chest open and take his heart into her beak. She had to do this; she had to follow the word of her lord, the Raven. For she was just a crow. She was nothing but a crow...

She was nothing... nothing... nothing... nothing...


	8. The Prince and the Raven

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 8

"Autor! Autor!"

The low voice and the light taping on Autor's door were both done in such a low volume as to keep from wakening the whole dormitory. However, it might not have woke any one else, but it was a well known fact that Autor was not anyone else. With a grumble, he rose from his bed and slunked over to his door. He briefly wondered who it could possibly be this irritating to wake him at this hour, but quickly remembered that there was only one answer for that.

He opened the door and meet the confirmation of his suspicions.

"Fakir..." he said coldly while also keeping his voice down, "may I ask why you are calling on me at the middle of..." he trailed off when he saw the stack of papers in the other student's hands.

"Read this," Fakir whispered, pushing the papers into Autor's hands, almost causing Autor to drop them.

"Is this really the time to show me a story," the glasses wearing boy said hoarsely, "I'm sure what ever piece of dribble you have here will still be on the page in the morning..."

"Just read it!" Fakir hissed back. Autor, for all his self-cultivated pompousness could tell when it was not a good idea to argue with Fakir. After straightening out the pile he began to read. It was nothing abnormal compared to Fakir's writing of the past few months, at lest until he got to the end.

"Forgotten King?" Autor repeated with a raised eyebrow, "Who's the Forgotten King?"

"I don't know," Fakir admitted, "I wrote him without meaning to. The story must have gotten out of my control, which means this King came of his own accord."

"So?" Autor answered as snooty as he could, "Then write a story about this Forgotten King and you will know. Let the story guide you and you will know as much as you can of him..."

"You don't think I haven't already tried?" Fakir almost shouted, "Do you not think that as soon as I find out that someone is spying on us that I didn't try? But it's the same thing as before: as soon as I sit down I draw a blank. I could not write a single word, not unless it's about-"

"It's about that bird," Autor finished bitterly.

"Don't talk about her like that," Fakir hissed, tiring to keep his voice down, "I try to write a little something not related to her every day and all I have to show for it are some incoherent scribbles."

"And do you know why?" Autor whispered even lower, "It's because all you ever talk about is that duck; it's all you ever _think _about. Everything you do each day evolves around her: you teach her; you write about her; you show her off like a proud mother. I'm surprised you don't feed her and make her wear diapers."

"Is this going somewhere?" Fakir asked, his whisper growing dangerous.

"It's the only thing you think about," Autor stressed, "so, of course, it's the only thing you can write about. When a spinner puts words on a page, those words come from his or her very soul. You must want... no, _need_ to write a story. It must be important to you..."

"This _is_ important to me. We have no idea who this 'Forgotten King' is. It could be the Raven or Drosselmyer or even the bookmen. I need to find out so I can protect her so why won't I write?!"

Autor shook his head like an angry schoolteacher. "It's not like that, Fakir. The power of the spinner requires more than just deciding that you are going to write a story. You need a story to tell, or in this case an interest in a story to write it. Right now, all you care about is that duck."

He stepped forward, his eyes steady on Fakir as he continued, "She is a distraction. How do you expect to become a truly great spinner if all you can write is happy little ducks? You can do so, so much more and yet you waste your effort on _her. _You haven't even transferred to the literary division, yet! You're still in ballet, all so you can help her embarrass herself in front of the whole school!"

"I made a promise," Fakir defended with an even whisper, "And the likes of you are not going to force me to brake it."

Autor did not falter but instead looked at the other boy evenly before he made to shut his door. "Well, all I can tell you is that you don't have to worry about the bookmen. I've been keeping an eye on them and you did a good job of erasing their memories. As for the Raven and Drosslemyer... well..." he started to shut the door but stopped a few inches from closing to give Fakir one more dark look, "if this is ether of them coming back, then you'll have to be a much better writer then you are now."

And with that he silently closed the door, leaving Fakir out in the dark hall.

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Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

She was nothing. Nothing but a crow. She had no thoughts, no opinions, no beliefs, she wasn't sure she still had a soul. All she knew was that she was just a crow. Crows can't feel happy or sad or angry, at lest not these crows. Not the crows that were in service to the Raven, the lord and master of all birds. He did the thinking and right now he wanted a heart.

But not any old heart. If that was the case, she would have gratefully given up hers. But he needed the purest heart, and that heart belonged to the prince. Only his heart would satisfy her master. She had to take it.

"Give us your heart! Give us your heart! Give us your heart!"

The crow once known as Piké had, along with her crow brothers and sisters, encircled the heroic fool when he had tried to challenge their master and they started to take turns trying to peck out his heart. Each peck, however, was blocked by the hilt of the prince's sword. But he did not move. Why wasn't the prince attacking?

"Please!" The prince pleaded as each beak hit his sword, "Listen to me, town's people! Don't let the Raven control you. You are not crows!"

So that was it. The prince didn't want to hurt them because they were once ugly humans. He should not have concerned himself. None of those humans existed any more. Not Piké or Lilié or Mr. Cat or Hermia or Freya or Ebine or Lysander or Malen or Karon or Femio... There was nothing but crows. Crows that walk. Crows that fly. Crows that dance, twirling around the prince as he feebly tried to protect himself. It wouldn't be long that he would slip and they'd have the heart. Soon...

Suddenly there was a light from behind her. Her and several other crows turned to see what could only be described as a spot light shining in the middle of town square. Where this light was coming from, her tiny little crow mind could not comprehend. And in the center of this light stood a duck. A small yellow duck who was spinning her wings over her head then reaching one wing out, the ballet sing for "Dance with me."

The crows all gathered around, caught up in the strange site and forgetting all about the prince for a moment. Then in a fast motion, the prince dropped his sword down and pointed in at his chest, a pained look of grief in his eyes. He was going to stab his own hart! The crows backed away. The heart must be given to their master whole. He can't...

Then duck started to dance, bringing all attention back to it. It wasn't the most graceful dance, but it was a dance that seemed to comfort their horrible crow hearts. This dance told them that it was okay, that they didn't have to do this. They could be more then crows. They can be more then nothing. They can be more then the roles that were chosen for them and dance the dance of life with her instead.

And as the crows watched the duck, their crow-like expressions lifted from their crow-faces. Their hearts were starting to flutter and not with the shadowy crow wings of sadness but with beautiful wings of light that would lift them hirer then a crow could fly. They were happy, but how could that be when crows could not be happy.

Then the bellowing voice of their master Raven echoed throw their minds. His voice was strong and with this voice he gave one command.

"Dance with the duck."

Immediately, their bright faces became dark and crow-like again and they began to dance and spin around the duck and started to tighten the circle.

"No..."

Then they began to peck the duck. Some crows pecked its head, some pecked its body. Their blows were hard and after several of them the duck collapsed to the ground with a pained quack.

"No..."

However, as soon as it was on the cold cobblestone, the duck started to struggle back up and continue to dance. It didn't get two steps in before it was again pelted with sharp beaks.

"No..."

But the poor little duck only continued to dance. Every beak that collided with it would be shrugged off with the best of its abilities. Every time it would fall, it would just get up. It just kept dancing, no matter what happened.

"No..."

But as time went on, it started to get noticeably weaker. Its dance was even wobblier that before and its steps began to slow. It wouldn't last any longer.

"No..."

Foolish duck. Why did it keep dancing? It was nothing more then a duck. Ducks can't change their destiny any more then crows can. Ducks aren't allowed to dance. Crow's aren't allowed to love. It was the way of things. Ducks are nothing. Crows are nothing. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing...

"No!"

It was over. There the duck lay, battered, beaten and breathing slowly. It was not getting up.

_"NO!"_

Piké found herself sitting up in her bed, sweat pouring from her brow. After a moment of heavy breathing that is customary with these situations, she realized she was not alone. Over on the far end of the room, Oswald and Lilié were sitting at her veranda in the middle of a game of cards. The odd thing was that the rabbit was wearing what looked like a barrel with two straps to hang on his shoulders while Lilié wore his shorts like a hat, her pigtails sticking out of the lag-holes. Whatever they were doing, her loud awakening had put that to an end and both of them were now staring at her with wide eyes.

Piké had the good senses to look a little sheepish at her out-burst and was about to apologize... until she realized something. "Hay, what are you guys doing in my room?"

Her anger, however, turned to confusion as the two of them suddenly rushed over and pulled her into a hug.

"Oh, kid! We were so worried. Well, I was worried. I don't know what Lilié was."

"I was ecstatic!"

"Yeah, that."

The two of them continued hugging her until Piké pushed them off her in an attempt for air.

"Come on guys. Stop it! Stop it! Lilié stop petting me and Oswald... put on some closes," she sat up, "come on. I was just asleep. What, did you guys think I wasn't going to wake up or something." At this she gave a good natured laugh, but it trailed off as she saw that the other two weren't laughing. Well, Oswald wasn't laughing.

"Kid," Oswald said seriously as he snatched his shorts from Lilié's head, "You have been asleep for almost 24 hours."

Piké's eyes widened. She turned her head to the window and saw it was indeed around lunch time. At first her thoughts went to class and Madame Verrückt, but she then remembered something. The visions in her dream. The prone form on the ground, surrounded by crows.

"The Duck! The dancing Duck! I need to find it," she began to clime out of bed, "something happened to it. I need to-"

With speed she had not been expecting, Oswald was by her side. For a moment she thought he might push her back into bed, but he did not. Instead, he just looked at her for a moment.

"Don't bother," he said, "I've already been. It didn't show after a half-hour, so everyone left in a huff."

Piké didn't hesitate on that information. "It will be there tomorrow. No... we can't wait. We need to find it now! We need to scourer every duck pond. There's a lake just outside town. We need to-"

"The duck will not be there tomorrow or the next day or the next," Oswald stated suddenly, "It is currently on a very short leash."

"What are you...?" she started, but Oswald jumped over to the window and peered out, watching the passers by.

"She won't do anything unless Fakir tells her to."

"Fakir?"

"I saw him and the duck talking at the pond and last night I followed them to a lake. There's more," at that he narrowed his eyes, "he called her Duck. Not _a_ duck, 'Duck' like it was a name!"

Duck? Then Piké's mind began to race as she remembered the reason she had fainted the day before.

"Yesterday, as I watched the dancing duck dance, I realized," she paused, first looking at Oswald, then at Lilié, before taking a deep breath and saying, "The duck's dancing is the same as Duck's, the one who disappeared along with the missing month."


	9. Oswald on his Own

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 9

Duck sat snug on a cushion in the corner of the musty room, bathed in orange light from the setting sun. It was nice being able to see the boy's dormitory, but she did miss the time when she had more freedom to move about. She didn't like that when Fakir said they had to come back to the room early. Sometimes he would let her stay out until late, but other times, like today, he would insist they retire. She hated being stuck in this room all afternoon; when you're a duck, you're options for entertaining yourself are limited.

With a bored-sounding quack, she shifted her position on her cushion and looked over to Fakir, hunched over his desk. He had been that way ever since this morning. He had barely paid attention to her practice, only reprimanding her twice and all day he barely talked to her. She was starting to worry, since any time he acted like this usually meant he was hiding something. And when he hid something, it usually ended with him getting himself hurt.

The sound of a tapping quill grew her attention back to him. That was another thing that worried her; he was trying to write and failing. He hadn't written a single thing since he sat down at his desk at what must have been an hour ago. Every once in awhile he would get like this; just sit and not-write for an hour or two, but never had he been this angry about it.

Out of boredom and worry, two feelings she admitted to herself she didn't know could mix, she stood up and starched her wings, then flapped up onto the gray bed. The red sunlight gave some much needed color to the gray room, but this did little to placate her. Sunset was her favorite time of the day and she longed to be out on the lake, drifting as a cool breeze fanned her feathers.

She turned back to the dark haired boy still hunched over his unwritten story.

"Quack!" she said, but he did not answer.

She knew better then to speak again. She would quack all day and he wouldn't react.

Instead she settled on the bed and craned her neck up to stare at the ceiling.

When times got boring like today, she liked to look to the ceiling for comfort. It didn't look like anything new was happing today, though. The spider web in the corner looked like it had caught a few flies. Nothing like last Tuesday, where part of it came undone and the spider had to fix it. Now that was a good afternoon, watching a spider repair a web. They know what they are doing, you know, meticulously spinning the tread and...

_"This is impossible!" _Fakir shouted as he angrily stood from his chair. Duck had to flutter away quickly as he came stomping over to the bed and through himself on to it, barring his head with in pillow.

Duck looked toward the boy for a moment then slowly turned to the desk where lay the paper still blank. She looked back to Fakir one more time before waddling back to her cushion.

As she settled in again, she couldn't help but ask herself what he was trying to write.

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The sun had started to go down at the Academy, finally sending most students back into their dormitories. For most it had been a long day. For others, they would have rather stayed out, but all had to be in by curfew.

But their was one place that few knew about, few cared about and yet would not let the night calm it's occupants.

As the candle flickered, shadows moved around the room with the flames own light, almost as if the two were partners in a pas de deux. Out of the shadows stepped three cloaked figures. Each hood was pulled up hiding their identities to all who might have been watching. They slowly, almost in rhythm to the flame's shadowy dance, marched up to the table where the candle sat, encircling it as if in a great ceremony. The smallest among them raised his arms and the others followed.

"Tonight," the smallest said in a low voice, "we have come to discuss a matter of the most importance. Fakir, the one who writes, must be dealt with."

The flame flicked as if in response and the smallest grabbed the edge of the table and continued, "On this night of darkness, we gathered here to speak of dark deeds and dark intentions for dark reason... for its dark... and there is no light... except maybe the candle... because if it was completely dark, we couldn't see..."

"Okay, that's it," said one of the cloaked figures as she removed her hood to reveal herself as Piké, "why are we doing this again?"

"To be mysterious," said the smallest one, removing his hood to reveal the bulbous head of Oswald, "when ever you talk mysterious things, you have to be as mysterious as possible. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"Yeah, Piké," said the final hooded figure, "haven't you read any story?" She spoke in the distinctive childish giggle of Lilié.

"This is not a story," Piké said, "and I really don't want to get dressed up when all we're going to do is talk," she pulled off the cloak, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground, "and it will be much more bearable with a little more light."

Oswald gave a sigh as Piké picked up the kerosene lamp from under the table and lit it, the loft that once had been Duck's filling with light.

As Oswald struggled to pull his cloak over his large head, Piké glanced over to Lilié, who still had her hood up. "Well, aren't you going to take that thing off?"

"No way!" Lilié said sweetly "I'm all spooky!"

"Fine," said Piké dismissively, "You can stand there and be spooky while me and Oswald talk like adults."

"Right!" Oswald said as he moved an old boot around in swooping motions, pretending it was a spaceship, "The mighty Captain Oswald, Defender of the Galaxy! To infantry and beyo- Hay!"

Piké suddenly grabbed the boot out from his hand and tossed it away.

"Come on! This is serious!"

"Right, right!" Oswald apologized, "No play time. Something must be done about Fakir."

Piké hesitated. "I don't know Oswald… Are you sure he has something to do with this?"

"He has everything to do with this," the rabbit king insisted, "he was ordering Duck around, telling her to forget about you two. Then I find him making her dance in the middle of a lake at dusk. Whatever was happening, it started when he began writing and ended when he stopped. And then you had your dream, which just confirmed it."

Piké crossed her arms in annoyance. "That dream did not prove he was behind anything."

"Oh, really," Oswald shot back, eyebrow raised, "what about that conversation where he basically told you the same thing he told Duck. He and Duck and two other students disappear from class at around the same time and when you confront Fakir about it, he's evasive. And then all Blot breaks loose..."

"There is no evidence that he had anything to do with turning us into crows," Piké insisted, slamming her hand on the table.

"Well, he is suspect NO. 1!" Oswald said, leaping on top of the table so he could meet Piké eye to eye.

Piké looked over to Lilié. "Lilié, tell me you don't believe Fakir could ever do anything wrong!"

"Oh, Fakir is never wrong in my eyes..." Lilié said.

Piké gave Oswald a smug smile. "See..."

"...even if Fakir really is a horrible monster raven that turns people into crows! That's so romantic," she said, her eyes lighting up from under the hood.

Piké gave a sigh, but then remembered what Lilié just said. "Hay, yeah, that's right. While I was a crow, I had to follow orders from a giant raven. He was the one that rained blood all over us and turned the entire town into crows in order to steal a prince's heart," she tilted her head in thought, "that sound's familiar for some reason."

Lilié gave a little giggle. "Of course, it does," from the fold of her clock, she produced a large tome and handed it to Piké, "it's just like the final scene from 'The Prince and the Raven'."

Piké took the book and looked over the page Lilié had opened to before reading:

"And thus the Raven

laughed to the poor prince in triumph

'Don't you see, my liege, your love

corrupted your subjects so much that

it was easy to eat at their hearts

until there was nothing left.

But now I still hunger and wish

for more, so I have to wonder

how must a pure heart, untouched

by hate and jealousy, taste like?

I must find out!"

And the bird raised its black wing and

tore its beak into its own breast. As it

flew over the crowd of towns people,

all there to receive the prince's blessing,

blood pouring out of its dripping wound

and rained down onto people, who

jumped and leaped in shock as the

blood hit them. Soon they had wigs

instead of arms, beaks instead of mouths,

and feathers instead of skin. Soon the whole

town square were dancing and squawking like

a festival of crows, for that is what

they had turned into.

"Your precious subjects are now mine,

my prince. And now I think I want

that heart of yours. Give it to me."

"Give us your heart! Give us your heart!

Give us your heart!" The crows sang as they

encircled the Prince and made to

peck for his heart. But the Prince was to fast

and leap over his former subjects

toward the Raven, sword drawn.

"Coward! You send innocent people in

your place when this is our fight?

Face me, Raven!"

"And that's it," Piké said. And it really was all there was. Those were the last words of the story.

"Sheesh, that was dark!" Oswald said with a look of disgust, "Are we sure that is for kids? I'm definitely not reading that one to mine."

Piké was not listening.

"I Remember now. That was from 'the Prince and the Raven', but I don't get it why...?

"Isn't it obvious?"Oswald said as he grabbed the book from her and flipped throw it, "There is only one logical explanation! Only one conclusion that makes sense: Fakir is the Raven from the story come to make Duck his slave!"

There was silence for a moment. Piké spent this time giving the rabbit king a look that said "you're insane," while Lilié spent this time taking off and putting back on her hood, humming a little tune.

"Oswald," Piké finally said, "are you even listening to yourself?"

"I haven't done so yet, so why start now?" The rabbit said plainly.

"Okay, first, the Raven is a character from a story..."

"And I'm a cartoon character," Oswald continued.

"So..."

The rabbit raised his eyebrow, "You really don't know what a cartoon is, do you."

Piké gave a huff. "Fine. So stories can just hop off the page whenever they want, so why does the Raven need Duck as his slave?"

"Because he's evil," Oswald preached, "there's no telling what evil people will do. Who can tell why they do half of the things they do."

"Sounds right to me!" Lilié cheered.

"That's enough," Piké said angrily, her volume rising, "There is no way the wonderful Fakir would do something like that."

"'Wonderful' Fakir? What, is he a trapeze artist now?" Oswald huffed, raising his voice, "I think your schoolgirl crush is getting in the way of the facts!"

"I don't have a crush," she said, almost shouting now, her face red, "and you don't have any proof to support your 'facts'."

"Well," Oswald flailed his arms, "I will just have to find some."

"You do that, Mr. Rabbit. Meanwhile, I'll figure out how to save Duck all on my own!" she said hotly as she made way to the door.

"Well, how do you like that," came Oswald's bitter replay, "I try to help you people and... well, fine!" he slammed the book down onto the table, "do what you want. It wouldn't be the first time everyone _abandoned me!_"

He only got the sound of a slamming door in reply.

The cartoon rabbit stood there for a couple minutes, his face literally beat read. Then a loud pounding erupted from the door.

"What's going on in there?" Madame Verrückt's voice shouted, "This room should be empty! What's with all the noise?"

Oswald panicked. They had been too loud; they must have woke half the dormitory. Frantically, he darted around the room looking for a hiding place.

"Okay, I've sent someone to fetch the spare key," Verrückt's voice said, "open this door now and I might go easy on you."

It was no use. The whole room was so bare that nothing was a suitable place to hide, not even under the bed, which was a good four feet above the ground.

"Okay," Verrückt's voice said triumphantly, "It's here. I'm coming in."

The knob began to rattle.

Oswald glanced around one last, desperate time and saw Lilié, still standing in the middle of the room. She looked down at him with a friendly smile and lift up her cloak, gesturing toward it.

At this point, Oswald had no choice and dove under the garment, ducking between Lilié's legs. Lilié reached over to the lamp and dimmed the light just as the teacher opened the door.

Verrückt froze in the doorway, met with the image of Lilié in an old gray cloak, hood pulled up over her face, standing in a dark, empty room with no light but candle light flickering violently.

Lilié gave her teacher her nicest smile, then put a finger to her lips in a mysterious manner.

"Ssshhh..."

Verrückt watched the strange scene for a moment, her eyes wide and her mouth half open. Then, without saying a word, she slowly backed through the door, softly closing it. After the door had been shut, Oswald crawled out from under Lilié's cloak and stared surprise-ridden at the door.

"How'd you do that?" he asked.

"I'm creepy!"

"No foolin'?"

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The night drew on as nights tend to do and soon the sun had risen. A thick morning fog covered the dormitory ground, making the background fade way in its early hazy.

Oswald sat by the open window unbothered by the morning chill as he watched the building across the courtyard through the haze. He did not move, not when a brisk morning breeze swayed his ears lightly, nor as a flock of different birds perched all over him and the windowsill. He stayed still, eyes focused on the front door.

Oswald was not one to usually be patient. In fact his patience was famously low. But if he had to wait, really wait for something that must be obtained only by truly waiting for it, then he could sit at that windowsill forever. He would not let his target slip away,even if he had to wait all morning.

But he wouldn't have to. The door slowly opened and the little dots that were Oswald's eyes widened. Out stepped the dark haired student, a small yellow bundle in his arms.

The rabbit watched carefully as he lightly closed the door and walked briskly over to the courtyard gate.

Oswald stayed in the loft as the boy reached the iron gates, left open through the night probably just out of habit, but the moment Fakir had turned the corner past the wrought iron fence and out of sight, the little black rabbit hopped down from the window and sprinted out the gate, stopping outside the courtyard. Fakir was well ahead of him, his slender form could just be made out in the fog.

Rooftops would be too risky this morning, so he made after the boy, running to close the distance then slowing down to a brisk pace to not be noticed.

And not being noticed was not as easy as it sounded. Fakir was remarkably attentive to his surroundings then you'd expect an angry teenage boy to be. A few times his back would stiffen, a cue to Oswald that he had to jump into the safety of a bush or behind the corner of a building before the Dark haired boy spun around, searching the cobblestone street to see if he was being followed. It become quite the chore for Oswald to stay close enough so he wouldn't lose Fakir in the fog, but far enough so that the boy wouldn't spot him. It was a tricky balance to maintain. Fortunately, they had soon crossed the bridge which lead through the Academy main building and into the courtyard, where it was easy to duck behind each bush and topiary as he continued to fallow. The boy kept his fast pace as he walked though the well kept courtyard and made his way toward two gray buildings near the back of the grounds.

He then stopped to scan the area for anyone following him, the signal for Oswald to stay put behind the tree he had ducked behind. Having seen no one, Fakir walked to the space between the two buildings, a narrow pathway barley wide enough for him to squeeze in. He let the duck down and allowed her to go first (For the tiny little thing, it was no problem) then slowly squeezed himself into the space. Despite what looked like a tight fit, the thin teenager did not seem to have any trouble, nimbly walking sideways into the narrow path.

Oswald waited a bit before hopping over and inspecting the narrow pathway. It seemed to be free of garbage and over growth, which meant Fakir must have walked it often. The rabbit took a brave step forward, his small body easily fitting into the tight corridor.

His head, on the other hand, snagged tightly between the two buildings, squeezing like a ripe tomato. His attempt to walk forward thwarted by his trapped head and only back against the buildings with all his might did he mange to jar it lose.

Oswald gave the narrow gap an angry growl. He did not have time to be playing games as his quarry got away. Weighing his options, he decided there was only one course he had before him. He didn't like it, always made his ears pop, but he was in a hurry. Oswald gabbed his nose suddenly then pulled the oval shaped appendage off. Air started to escape from the hole it left behind and his whole head deflated like a balloon. Once it was completely flat, Oswald walked forward, his rubber-like head hanging down his front like a bib.

He crossed the narrow path easily, and after making use of a bicycle pump that he kept in his shorts for just such an occasion, the now fully air-headed Oswald got a good look at his surroundings. It was a very secluded part of the school, surrounded by several buildings and shaded by several trees. In fact, the entire area was covered in tall grass and the trees and buildings were coved in vines, a clear sign that no one really visited this out-of-the-way section of the grounds.

Well, almost no one.

For smack dab in the middle of this over grown little garden was a small shed, particularly covered in vines. And from the shed came a soft melody. Oswald recognized it as the "Nutcracker Suite" and moved closer to the shed just to listen to it. There was no need to hurry now, as the shed was the only place Fakir could have gone, so if he was going to relax to some music, Oswald could take his time in getting there.

Hopping behind the shed, he was lucky enough to find a small window half cracked open. Hopping up and grabbing on, he peered inside. What he saw was not a surprise, but it still worried him.

The small space had been converted into a ballet studio. One wall was covered with a full length mirror and across this ran a barre, very low to the ground. In fact, the metal bar was far too low for any person to use. But Oswald realized it wasn't for a person, it was for a duck.

He realized this because Duck was there, stretching her legs on the barre. At the other end of the room Fakir, his arms crossed, stood next to an antique phonograph. The two of them said nothing to each other as the little water fowl concentrated on her exercises; first legs, then her mid-body. It was very strange watching a duck attempt these kinds of acrobatics, but she seemed to be doing fine.

"Okay, that's enough," Fakir said as he moved over to the record player. Duck leaped to the center of the room just as the music stared.

"Okay, begin," came Fakir's order, and the duck began to dance very clumsily. She started by extending her leg forward, not very high, but Oswald had to admit she had good balance. She then leaped and twirled over to the other side of the room, made a quick pose with her arms extended above her head, then made a grand leap across the room... at least that what it probably meant to be, but she only made it a quarter of the way across before tumbling to the floor.

Fakir removed the needle from the record, halting the music. "Wrong! Do it from the beginning!"

Duck pulled herself off from the floor and moved back over to the middle of the room as Fakir placed the phonograph needle back at the edge of the recorded.

The duck began to dance again as the music flared to life, just like before she lifted her leg, a little higher this time, then leaped and twirled, then attempted her leap. She did much better this time: now she only reached halfway across the room.

"Do it again!" Fakir barked and the duck got up and marched back to the room's center.

The music started and the duck repeated the routine, first rising her leg, then the twirls then a leap. This time the leap made it across the room only for Duck to trip on landing and fall on her beak, which Oswald could only imagine is like falling on your face, but worse.

"Again!" Fakir shouted, this time not even waiting for Duck to get up before starting the music. Oswald watched this go on over and over as the fog began to fad around him and the morning sun started to shine.


	10. Legacy of the Spinner

The Princess and the Rabbit

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or setting.

This fanfiction was made for fun, not profit.

Epic Mickey is owned by Disney.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is owned by Disney and Universal.

Princess Tutu is owned by GANSIS/TUTU and ADV Films

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Chapter 10

The morning sun had started to clear away the fog as Piké and Lilié arrived early to the Academy main building. Barely anyone had arrived yet, only the most dedicated to their craft entered into the courtyard at this hour.

"I'm sorry to walk you up this early, Lilié," Piké told her friend.

"Blaxhrk hjrdgbnne sdahj xeuopsz jkeqaddnf," Lilié replied in kind with a yawn.

"It's just that this is the best time to avoid Fakir," she gave a sigh as she said this, "he probably doesn't want to see me after last time."

"Gquxer njpow wgd rjnxe oiepbnf cskpllg mj fdeshbv mjred fdg kjhg," Lilié put in.

"We don't need any distractions, anyway. I thought about it alot last night and I decided that the only clue we have to go on is the fact that my last dream reenacted the last page of 'The Prince and the Raven'..."

"Blixpnw thfges kpoli hy gfrd vbjwa pqusmmg urt plla plla," Lilié reminded her, removing sleep from her eyes.

"...So, the best thing I could think of was to find as much information as we could find on the book. It only makes sense. And then we can prove Fakir innocent, that we're mature and that Oswald is a big stupid head."

"Yoda eux hndss klogh jkoope ncvea j azey kdsg jtwp qudfe jdsnomm dgs, fgrst cvxxsa zhfzet kshersih b gdaml xhexa llklrlsdfl knnsepnans hd g. Hdprt ghpqu hjanenn gzepnnru g rsy opppppp. Brimmd glok spprin plouc tata c wimgit fitre gol namf," Lilié finished.

They entered the old library through the ornate double doors and approached the front desk, at which sat a boy that seemed far too young to be working, especially at this early hour.

"Good mornin', ladies," he said in a cute little cockney accent, "may I 'elp ya?"

Piké gave the boy a friendly smile while Lilié just stared off into a nearby wall.

"Yes," Piké answered, "we would like to see any information you have on Herr Drosselmeyer's 'The Prince and the Raven'."

"Ah, you're in luck, ma'am. We just 'appen ter 'ave wahn of the most extensive collections on Drosselmeyer biographies in the entire world," the boy said with a smile.

"Hey, that is luck!" Piké said slamming her fist into the table, causing the drowsy Lilié to jump, "Can we see them?"

"Sorry, ma'am," the little boy said with a shake of his head, "we ain't received them yet."

Piké suddenly lost her balance in a moment of shock, causing her to fall foreword and plant her face firmly in the desk.

"What do you mean 'you haven't received them yet'? This is Goldcrown Town, the historical home of Drosselmeyer! Don't tell me that you _just _got around to ordering books on the guy!" She said, lifting her head.

The small boy grinned nervously. "Well, funny thing, that. Ya kna the whole 'missin' month' thing from a while back? Well, after it was aw done with, we decided ter take inventory. Aw books seemed accounted for, until we got to the books on Drosselmeyer. Aw books on 'im 'ad vanished. Not only that, but any 'istory or literary book that just 'ad a section or chapter on 'im 'ad those pages torn out. It was very odd..."

Behind Piké, Lilié's half closed eyes suddenly shot open at this news and she leaped forward and reached across the counter to grab the boy by his blazer collar.

"What! Why would anyone do such a thing?" she demanded, showing of real anger rather then fake, over-the top anger that Piké had become accustom to, "The man was a genius. Why would they do such a horrible, _horrible thing?_"

The boy, looking very terrified as one should when Lilié is in the room, answered frantically, "I daan't know! Nah wahn knows. It 'appened durin' the bloody missing month! Nah wahn can remember a thing!"

Piké chose that moment to step forward. "Lilié, put him down."

She expected Lilié to put up a fight, but the blond girl simply released her grip on the boy's collar and continued to angrily stare at him.

There was a brief pause as Lilié fumed, but once she seemed to calm down to acceptable Lilié levels, Piké decided to continued the conversation. "So someone just stole all books on Drosselmeyer? But we just borrowed 'The Prince and the Raven' yesterday!"

The boy straightened his jacket. "Yeah, that's the really funny part. Aw books _about_ Drosselmeyer were taken, but all books _by_ Drosselmeyer were just vandalized."

"Vandalized?"

"The last few pages of each book 'ad been ripped out."

Piké puzzled over that. "But 'The Prince and the Raven' was still intact," she pointed out.

The boy could only shrug.

Piké sighed. "Well, thanks anyway. We'll just check some of the bookstores in town-"

"Daan't bother," the boy interrupted, "they 'ad the same thin' 'appen ter them. Why do ya think we 'ad ter order them?"

"What?" Piké asked rising a confused eyebrow, "Why would anyone do this to the entire town?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

The pompous voice had come from the great doorway, in which stood a peculiar figure. Thin, with a well kempt uniform and well combed purple hair and a pair of large glasses that shined ominously as he walked forward, a smug smile smeared across his gaunt face. To tell the truth, he did look familiar.

"They were trying to remove him from the town's history," he said smugly. He took a few steps forward, but stopped in his tracks as he noticed Lilié and remained a few paces in front of them.

"Why would any one want to do that?" Lilié asked, returning to her terrifyingly cheery self.

The student snorted. "Are you telling me that you haven't heard the stories? Ever since Drosselmeyer started writing there were rumors that any story written by him would come true. Many of his less fantasy based works looked remarkably similar to events that took place not long after he wrote them. There was even talk of nobles coming to him to commission stories about them in hopes they would come true. The man was rich long before his work started selling."

Piké tilted her head. "Yeah, that's great and all, but why did this make people want to forget him?"

The student fixed his glasses before fixing Piké with a look. "Haven't you two read any of his stories?"

"Why, yes!" Lilié sang, "They are the most beautifully horrific tragedies ever to grace the human imagination!"

The student nodded in agreement. "Now, imagine what would happen if those things occurred in real life."

Lilié put a hand to her chin in thought. Piké could only guess at all the horrifying visions that were going through the blond girl's mind. After a second of pondering the insane implications of Drosselmeyer altering reality as he wishes, Lilié came back from her thoughts and answered in the most sincere way possible with: "Oh, how wonderful!"

Piké expected the student to react the way most people react when Lilié says something like this (with confusion), but much to her surprise, the student just smirked.

"Yes," he said, "the possibilities for such a power are limitless, isn't it? In real hands, it... Well," he trailed off, looking even more smug.

"But..." Piké interrupted, trying to keep the conversation from going places it shouldn't, "all that happened a long time ago, why steal the endings now. It's a little too late to prevent them."

"Because," the student continued, "a story gets power from those who read it. The more who do, the stronger it gets. By leaving his story incomplete, they hoped to weaken Drosselmeyer."

"What are you talking about? Drosselmeyer is dead!"

The student didn't answer immediately, instead fixing the two girls with a nasty smirk.

"Sure he is," was his reply.

He gave one final nod to the pair and with a satisfied grin, he turned and walk off into the shadows of the library...

...Or at least he would have if Lilié hadn't grabbed him by his collar and pined him against the wall.

"Listen here, four-eyes!" she said with uncharacteristic venom, "You just waltz right in here and bad mouthed my hero by calling him a psychotic lunatic!" her voice quivered as she pulled his face up to hers, "do you know what I think of you?"

The student's jaw dropped in fear as Lilié's sheering face got closer and closer and then... she gave him a light kiss on the cheek before running off giggling.

The student spent a minute blushing before turning to Piké and asking "What's with that girl?"

He only got a shrug as an answer.

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The day had been typical for Fakir. First, early morning practice for Duck in the old shed he had found. Today, he noticed some improvement, so she wasn't a total waste of time. Once that was done, he left the duck stretching to attend class.

Once the advanced lessens were over with, he snuck out of class to reconvene with Duck at the shack. It was usually at this time that they spent practicing for the noon-time show, but since he put an end to that, they decided to spend the time at the lake. Even though the broad daylight meant she couldn't dance the way she could at night, it was still good for the two to have some time together. She was really looking forward to relaxing.

But Fakir wasn't sure he could relax. All he could think about throughout his day was the Forgotten King. To others it might seem odd to worry about some random name that he scribbled down for no reason, but those people did not know what he was; that if he wrote something down, then it must be lurking out there somewhere. He had spent the entire night trying to write something, anything, about this mysterious name on a page, only to come up with nothing but blank paper.

Throughout the rest of his day he had been tired but he was able to ignore all those exhausted feeling thanks to a more prevalent feeling: anticipation. There was something watching them, somewhere in the shadow and he had no way of telling what it was.

They approached the Lake of Despair; or rather that's what Drosselmeyer once called it. It was probably just a normal lake now, with barely any of the usual amount of despair that a lake tended to have. Odd that this place would end up meaning so much to the two of them, but fate had a way of doing the most unexpected things, he seemed to be finding.

He walked to the edge of the dock and set Duck down onto the wooden boards where she immediately dropped into the water. She swam out into the middle of the lake, dipping her head into the water looking for food. Fakir watched her dip for a while, then set up his chair and sat down, got out his clipboard and quill, dipped his quill into the bottle of ink held to the surface of the clipboard, and slowly put pen to paper.

And did nothing else.

It was always the same. He could write. He could write pretty well, but it was all about the same thing; Duck. He could write all-day, write all kinds of things about her. But never anything else, he always drew a blank with anything else, even when lives depended on it. He found that out the hard way.

Fakir looked up from his paper and to the small duck in the water. He hadn't told her any of this, fearful of what she might do. The silly little duck might actually go looking for the Forgotten King all by herself. She was always so strong headed, probably why Drosselmeyer had chosen her. He cannot let some other... thing use her. Not again.

He put his quill to the paper and tried to write anything, anything he could on the Forgotten King. Anything that could be useful. He forced the story out, pushing the words through his pen. With each word that plopped onto the page, he gave a grunt. After a moment he surveyed the results of his labor, which were a few words written in an unreadable scrawl:

_**the KiNg **__**was**__** hAD lOng EarS and BIg fEEt**_

__The clipboard fell on the deck as he covered his face with his hands. Autor was right. He could not write anything that wasn't about Duck. How was he supposed to keep his promise if he could not find out what was after her? Things were going fine until now. Sure, he wasn't making too much progress on his writing, but Duck was safe, Mytho and Rue where happy and no one remembered the time before. Why did this have to happen now? What-

"Quack!"

Fakir's head shot up to see Duck, still wading in the lake but now looking over at Fakir with worrying eye. Fakir gave his normal indication that he was okay, a deep throated grunt, and the relieved duck went back to her swimming.

Briefly reaching down to pick up his clipboard, Fakir decided that the best thing to do was to clear his mind and the best way to clear a troubled mind was to write about Duck.

This time the words came forth naturally, like water rippling down a stream. The noise of his quill scratching the parchment was the only sound he could process, as every letter sailed out of the quill tip, pausing only for more ink.

He could not write of the kind of spectacle that he liked to at night, but depicting her in her daily life suited him just fine. He could and sometimes had written constantly about her and the cute way she swam around the lake, or the way she would adorably stick her tail feathers in the sky when she dunked her head into the water. He had already gone through five pages and was still going when he wrote one peculiar paragraph.

_"The little Yellow duck gave a _

_yawn. It was a peaceful day, one _

_of clear skies and cool breezes. _

_The duckling felt safe with her_

_guardian to protect her. Only he_

_and the Forgotten King were _

_watching her."_

Fakir's quill immediately stopped, his eyes already on the brushes surrounding the body of water. He was here, somewhere out there. The Forgotten King, hiding in the shade of the trees and leaves of the bushes. He scanned the entire area with his eyes, looking for any sign of movement. The bank was nothing but blotches of green and brown, two colors that dominated the landscape and... wait.

There in the brush to his left was a black splotch. He could only see it out of the corner of his eye but it was there, a stain on the pristine greenage.

Of course, it could have been just his eyes playing tricks on him, but he knew it wasn't. It wouldn't be good storytelling if it was.

"Duck!" he called out to the happy waterfowl, "It is time to leave."

"Quack," the bird replied angrily and flapped her wings in defiance.

"I know it's early," he answered back, "but I need to get back before anyone notices me."

Duck didn't buy that excuse and made that clear with a resounding " Quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack-quack."

Fakir sighed. "I just think we shouldn't talk any chances-"

He was interrupted with an abrupt, "Quack-quack!" and the duck rising her rear-end out off the water in his direction.

Fakir fearfully glanced over to the bank, where the dark splotch was still amongst the bushes. If he acted at all like he knew that it was there, he might risk giving it the opportunity to either attack Duck or flee, nether outcome he felt like invoking. He currently could not let whatever-it-was get away. This may be his only chance.

"Duck, I really think that we should head back," he said, his voice a little softer, "Please."

The waterfowl turned around and gave the student a good, long look in the eyes. They say that if you look someone in the eyes you can stare straight into their sole and tell if they are lying. That may not be true in real life, but in a story it is very real.

The duckling slowly swam back to the dock and fluttered her way up onto it. Fakir folded his chair and lifted the tiny bird onto his chest, carrying his chair in his other hand and followed the path back to town.

As he walked, he paid attention to his surroundings. He kept special eye on the bushes that doted the forest, sometimes in shadow, sometimes bathed in the golden light that poked through the branches and leaves that blocked the sky.

It was quiet as forests tended to be, but as fakir moved on, he could hear a rustling in the distance. At first he thought the obvious, that it was an animal out in the brush somewhere. But then it started to get louder and louder. He came to a stop, inducing a surprised quack from the duck he was holding. Fakir looked about the green and brown around him, looking for any shadows that might besmirch the plants, but saw nothing. After a time, the far-off rustling also stopped. Silence was all that could be heard.

Then he felt something brush past his arm. Instinctively, he looked down to see something that made his blood turn cold. Out of a bush right next to him, a long, pitch-black arm had emerged and was reaching right for Duck, who was looking worriedly up at Fakir and had not taken noticed.

It was the most unnatural arm, too. The fingers of its hand were short and stubby and the arm did not seem to have any joints or muscle. It almost seemed like a long black pole with a hand at the end.

As soon as it was spotted, the arm grabbed Duck's wing, causing her to squawk in distress. Fakir immediately slapped the arm away and it quickly retreated into the brush. Fakir didn't waste any time. He immediately dropped his folding chair and the small bard (who he knew would glide down safely) and gave chase, tearing throw the bushes after the culprit. The thing wasn't hard to spot, its darkness stuck out on the green and brown. It was running at a good clip, weaving around the bushes and leaping over roots. Fakir tried to stay behind it, but he found he was just not fast enough. Whatever this thing was, it moved like an animal and was just as fast. Soon the student lost track of it and had to come to a stop to catch his breath.

Was that it? Was that the Forgotten King?

00000000000000

The changing room was alive with activity as the female part of Madame Verrückt's ballet class changed for lunch. This was always an exciting time for the students, as, despite the exhaustiveness that usually came with extensive exercise, they were young, energetic and free from having to hear long lectures from a strange germen lady. Eager for the activates that come with such freedom they made quick work of removing their clothes out of the wooden cubbies and changing out of their leotards.

Well, most of them were quick. Piké sat rather sadly on the bench, her left tow shoe half way off. Normally, she would be just as excited as everyone else, chatting with Lilié and Du- uh, chatting with friends and priming for the short reprieve that the lunch break gave her but today had been different.

She thankfully hadn't had another crazy dream, but instead her sleep had been dominated with restlessness. Every hour or so, she would wake up and the go back to sleep after a while of windless wakefulness. By the time the sun rose, Oswald had already left, (not that she cared where that little rodent had run off too). So she endeavored to solve the mystery of her most recent dream by researching the book it was modeled after... and that didn't end so well.

She wasn't even sure she could trust the student with the glasses. On one hand, his story had been far too fanciful to be true, but then again she had been harboring a talking rabbit that claimed to be fictional. She wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

After that, she decided to do the next obvious move, talk with Fakir. After all, he was the one who was currently looking after Duck and no matter how rude he had been with her before, he had to listen when she told him about her dream.

It was a nice, competent plan... except how scarce and distant Fakir usually was. He kept ignoring her attempts to get his attention during Madame Verrückt's lectures and he left as soon as Verrückt was done instructing the advanced class. Yeah, he probably hadn't forgotten about that little incident a few days ago. Not one of her better moments.

After this, she wasn't sure what. The only thing she knew for certain he did was watch the Dancing Duck, but Oswald said... that rabbit said she wouldn't be showing up. She could just go anyway and see if she'd get lucky but...

She sighed. Something was wrong throughout all of this. Something that just nagged at her, that didn't add up.

Her latest dream. She could still see the very last image of it; a broken and defeated Duck lying on the ground, surrounded by half-human crows. Crows that had once been townspeople.

It didn't add up. How did she, Lilié and the rest of the town turn back to normal? What happened with Duck, why was she still a duck? Heck, why was she a duck in the first place? What does all of this have to do with the missing month? And why was Fakir acting so strangely in her dream? In fact, he was acting more than just strangely. Could it be that Oswald was right...?

No! No way was the wonderful Fakir the one behind all this! He would never trap duck in such a way. In fact he probably saved her. Yeah! He must have! He jumped right in and...

She stopped her thoughts, eyes wide. The prince from her dream; that must have been him. It had been too hectic for her to make out, but he was the one duck saved by drawing away the crows, then he must have gotten his second wind, jumped back into the fray and saved duck and her and Lilié and the rest of the townspeople then rode off on his magic unicorn into the night! It made so much sense. She had to talk to Fakir now! It was the only way.

"Miss Piké," said the authoritative voice behind her.

"Yes, Madame Verrückt," Piké said, turning to face her instructor.

"You shouldn't treat your toe shoes that way." Verrückt said simply.

Piké, confused, looked down to her hand and saw that she had been crushing her shoe in her fist, probably when she was caught up in the moment.

"Sorry, Madame Verrückt," Piké apologized as she removed her other shoe and placed them both into her cubby.

"Think nothing of it, Miss Piké," Verrückt answered, "just be careful, that is all that needs to be said. Now hurry up. Everyone else is already dressed."

"Right," she said, but as her teacher started to walk away she asked, "do you know were Senior Fakir is?"

Verrückt turned back with a raised eyebrow. "If it is of the romantic persuasion, Miss Piké, I think it best to warn you that Mr. Fakir is not interested in-"

"No, no," Piké said hastily, "I, uh... just want to talk ballet with him. You know, maybe he could give me a few tips."

Verrückt's expression did not change. "I do not know where Mr. Fakir goes when he leaves this class. I very much would like to, as he does so far too much then I would like, but I do not."

"Oh, okay, thanks." Piké said deceptively, expecting Verrückt to turn away again. She did not.

"Miss Piké," the instructor suddenly said, her voice serious, "I understand from the volunteer librarian that you were attempting to gather information today on the infamous Mr. Drosselmeyer."

"Yes." Piké answered.

"My least favorite author," she said dismissively, "Oh, and congratulations on your quick recovery." Suddenly she jumped into one of the cubbies, the door closing behind her. After a moment, nothing came out, so Piké quickly dressed and left.

00000000000000

Lilié waited happily in front of the entrance to the ballet building, her hands behind her back and a large grin on her face (a clear sign to anyone that knew her to stay away).

She was waiting for Piké, who had been mopey all morning through class and it was just the most precious thing! She was especially cute when she had that far off look in her eye. It had been enough to cheer Lilié up after hearing those horrible things about Herr Drosselmeyer.

Drosselmeyer had been her hero. When she was a little girl, the only thing she had to entertain herself where his stories. She would search her family library for one and smuggle it to her room without any of her brothers seeing and read it once, twice, maybe three times over before attempting to put it back. Those were some of the best memories in her sick little mind. If it hadn't been for those stories, she may not be the girl she was today, and we couldn't have that could we?

"Lilié!"

The blond haired girl gave her fellow ballet student a friendly wave as the two converged and began their walk.

"Lilié," Piké began, "we need to find Fakir. I've got a very bad feeling-"

"Really? That's great! I've got a bad feeling, too! It just makes me all warm inside..."

"Too much information! Look, we'll split up and ask around. Someone must know where he is."

"Where who is?" said Oswald.

"The wonderful Fakir, of course!" Piké shot back.

"Well he doesn't seem so wonderful if you ask me."

"Well, no one asked..." Piké suddenly stopped and turned around to find the small rabbit standing right behind them, looking very worse-for-wear. His blue coat was covered in leaves and his long ears were tangled in twigs. He was also breathing heavily.

"What happened?" Piké asked with worry... until she remembered that she was supposed to be angry with him. "What happened to you?" she repeated more coldly.

Oswald gave a snort as he brushed the leaves off his coat.

"Oh, nothing," he mused "I just did something stupid."

"That's nice," Lilié said, her sunny disposition growing brighter, "we just found out my childhood hero was a depraved nut job! Isn't that wonderful!"

Forcing herself not to roll her eyes, Piké explained, "We went to the library to find out all we could on Drosselmeyer, but all info was missing. Then that nerdy guy from the other day came by and told us that anything he wrote came true."

"Well, of course everything he wrote came true," Oswald said folding his arms.

Piké had to blink at that. "What?"

"As long as you believe in a story, it will always be real!" He said in a voice so sweet that Lilié almost gagged.

"No, no, no," Piké interrupted, "you don't understand. He said that anything he wrote came true in the real world."

The little dots of Oswald's eyes grew wide. "The real world? You mean _this _real world?"

"Yes, that's what he said, I'm sure of it"

"_Anything _he wrote?"

"Yes, I think so..."

But she was interrupted when Oswald started jumping around ecstatically.

"He was a spinner! Of course! It makes sense. Then that means..." he trailed off as his little dots once again went wide, "All that writing he's been doing! That's the connection!" He turned to leave.

Piké moved after him, however. "Wait! What connection? What's a spinner?"

Oswald turned back apologetically, "Sorry, can't explain. I need to find Fakir again."

"But I thought you were following him?"

"Yeah, well..." he paused in an embarrassed manner, "I had to lose him after I tried to grab Duck."

"You tried to grab Duck!" The student retorted angrily.

"I said it was stupid."

"I'll say! Get over here!"

"Sorry, but I need to find them before Fakir tries something else." And with that, the rabbit hopped off out of sight.

"Wait!" Piké shouted in vain, "You can trust Fakir! I know you can!"

She finally stopped her screaming when she realized that screaming at thin air would do nothing and decided to spend her time doing more productive activities like stomping the ground in a huff.

"Fine, you want to go running around grabbing poor defenseless ducks, you can do that while I be the responsible one! Come on, Lilié," she whined as she stormed off.

Lilié, who had been thoroughly enjoying the argument, immediately followed after Piké, humming a happy tune.

00000000000000

The church was, like most things in Goldcrown Town, very, very old. It stood at the focal point where several streets converged and towered over the quaint little houses that surrounded it with its majestic bell tower. One would be able to see the entire town from the top of this mighty white steeple. However, the stairwell into the bell tower had long ago been sealed and as far as anyone knew it was impossible to scale the tower.

Which is why it was very odd for Fakir to be standing on the balcony at the very top of the tower, looking over the magnificent vista. The oddities continued as Autor stepped out of the archway behind him, not looking at all pleased.

"Well?" Fakir asked, "Did you get it?"

Autor growled and took out a piece of paper. But this was no ordinary piece of paper. It was white and glimmered in the sun. And bordering the paper were lines of golden wreath weaving in and out of itself. It was truly the most elegant piece of stationary ever conceived.

As Fakir took the paper and placed it onto his clipboard, Autor could only sneer at his reluctant companion.

"Are you sure this is wise," he said with his usual amount of contempt, "surly he has better things to do than bother with a writer who can't write."

"He'll come," was Fakir's only answer as he wrote a message on the glossy paper. Not a story, just a simple note asking for help. He was done quickly and held out his hand to Autor.

The other boy rolled his eyes as he handed Fakir an envelope made of the same shiny paper. With it in hand, Fakir began to fold his letter and slip it in side of the envelope.

As this was going on, Autor glanced about the small tower room, noticing the distinct lack of yellow feathers.

"Not that I care," he said in a way that made it clear that he didn't, "but where is your little avian friend? I thought she would be here."

"I left her back at our room," Fakir said without looking back.

"Funny," the other boy said with a snort, "I thought it would love to be here for this."

"She doesn't know what's going on."

"Really? Weren't you two attacked?"

"She didn't see it. She was looking away. She thinks I chased off an animal."

"I see," Autor said with a smirk, "funny how you insist it's not a pet, yet you keep treating it like one."

If this angered Fakir, he did not show it. He finished sealing the envelop and as soon as he did, it erupted in a bright light. Fakir tossed the light off into the air where it morphed into a white dove and fluttered into the blue sky.

Autor watched it go until it was lost amongst the clouds, then he turned and pushed past Fakir, walking into the tower.

"It won't be until tonight that we hear anything from them. No point in staying here," he said as he headed for the stairs, "I don't want to keep you from your pet." Fakir did not say a thing as he heard the door slam behind him.


End file.
